I think Pipe Tobacco is my kindred spirit politically. He wrote a post today that echoes my thoughts on things political and also wrote some of the changes and things that need to be implemented by our government. I agreed with what he wrote wholeheartedly and it was as if I was reading my own thoughts. Check out The Frumpy Professor to read his thoughts for today. (Pops in a new window.)
I think one of the more important issues he brought up is universal healthcare for all. My father’s business subsidizes my medications and they are over $600 dollars a month. If my father was not a pharmacist who owned his own pharmacy then I wouldn’t be able to get my injections for my mental illness. I just couldn’t afford it. This medication is vital to my health and well being and how do you place a value on such a thing? When did the health and well being of our nation fall dependent upon the rampant profiteering I see so often within the medical industry in the United States? How do you put a dollar value on someone’s health?
The sad thing is that government in my lifetime is more interested in promoting the health and bottom lines of big businesses rather than the common man. Our government is rife with corporatism. Our leaders are bought and sold like commodities on a market. It seems my mental health is also just another commodity to be traded within the market of our healthcare industry. I don’t want to be a commodity anymore! I hope to live to a see a day where someone's health is more important the accumulation of little green pieces of paper that have a perceived economic value.
Monday, October 31, 2005
First Light
My favorite time of the day is just before dawn. Every thing is so peaceful and quiet. The only sound is that of the hissing of my gas heater and the pecking of my fingers at the keyboard. Soon, the first light of dawn appears and the birds begin to stir and call. I go outside after donning my coat and stand in the cold morning air. I breathe deep. Frost covers the landscape and makes it look so cold. Every thing just seems right with the world.
I was starving this morning and fixed a hearty breakfast of poached eggs on toast sprinkled with some of that delectable cheddar cheese from Clarke Brothers Meats. I also cooked a pot of grits. Not the instant kind mind you, but good old fashioned southern style grits. I am also already on my second pot of coffee.
Yesterday was a blessed day and I got a real treat last night that I wasn’t expecting. Charlie had grilled rib-eye steaks and brought me one along with toasted barbeque bread, a baked potato, and a salad. I can’t afford to buy the things and I do love a good steak so last night was truly a welcomed surprise.
My father also called me last night to tell me he had bought me a ticket to the annual Alabama vs. Auburn game. This game is a HUGE deal every year and the stadium will be packed to the gills with rabid football fans. My brother and his wife are also flying in from San Diego to attend with us. Dad is also driving up to Lexington, Kentucky next week for the Auburn vs. Kentucky game. He asked me if I wanted to attend that game as well, but I declined. I just don’t feel like a lengthy road trip and will just stay at home and take care of their cats.
I was starving this morning and fixed a hearty breakfast of poached eggs on toast sprinkled with some of that delectable cheddar cheese from Clarke Brothers Meats. I also cooked a pot of grits. Not the instant kind mind you, but good old fashioned southern style grits. I am also already on my second pot of coffee.
Yesterday was a blessed day and I got a real treat last night that I wasn’t expecting. Charlie had grilled rib-eye steaks and brought me one along with toasted barbeque bread, a baked potato, and a salad. I can’t afford to buy the things and I do love a good steak so last night was truly a welcomed surprise.
My father also called me last night to tell me he had bought me a ticket to the annual Alabama vs. Auburn game. This game is a HUGE deal every year and the stadium will be packed to the gills with rabid football fans. My brother and his wife are also flying in from San Diego to attend with us. Dad is also driving up to Lexington, Kentucky next week for the Auburn vs. Kentucky game. He asked me if I wanted to attend that game as well, but I declined. I just don’t feel like a lengthy road trip and will just stay at home and take care of their cats.
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Ferrets Got the Blues
For most of the summer, every time I drove somewhere through town I saw Ferret walking. He never seemed to have a destination. He was endlessly walking on a quest for what I do not know. George seems to think he is going crazy. I am starting to come to the same conclusion.
Lately, as cooler weather has set in, Ferret has once again started to hang out down at the grocery store like old times. He has been a pitiful sight to behold. He doesn’t shave or bathe and he looks so sad and forlorn. He rarely says a word. He sits down there all day watching people come and go as his life passes him by.
This morning I walked down to the shopping center to pick up a half gallon of milk for my coffee in the cool morning air. Ferret was sitting on the bench between the Pig and the dollar store. I sat down next to him to smoke a cigarette before I entered the store and made my purchase. He has really let himself go these days. He looked about as grubby as you can get with really dirty clothes.
“How’s it going man?” I asked as I lit my cigarette and sat down.
“I ain’t feeling too well these days,” Ferret replied sullenly.
“You still living with your mother?” I asked.
“That bitch is driving me crazy,” He replied. “She keeps telling me to get a job.”
“Have you been down to the unemployment office?” I asked trying to continue the conversation.
“What’s with all the fucking questions?” He asked angrily,
“Woah, hold it man, I didn’t mean to piss you off,” I replied. “I was just trying to make conversation.”
“Well, I don’t need your fucking conversation,” He said as he turned to me with a weird look in his eyes.
This exchange had caught me off guard as normally Ferret is a pretty laid back fellow. I flicked the almost spent cigarette out into the parking lot with my middle finger and thumb and then started to get up to go in the store. Ferret reached into his coat pocket to pull out an empty cigarette packet. He looked into it trying to find one last cigarette, but to no avail. I handed him the rest of my pack and he had a “what the fuck?” expression on his face as I did this.
“Why are you giving me this?” He asked. “You never let people bum cigarettes.”
“I just thought you needed it, man,” I replied.
“I’ll pay you back,” He said.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said as I walked off and left to finish my shopping.
I know what it is like to be down and out and every little good thing can make all the difference such as those few cigarettes. I also know what it is like to feel crazy and to not have control of your life. I think Ferret is experiencing those very same things. I just hope he has the good sense or what is left of his sanity to get over to the mental health clinic and get some help. Somehow, I doubt it will happen though. When you get like that you need help from others or your family to pull out of it. From what I have heard, I don’t think Ferret’s mother is up to that task.
Lately, as cooler weather has set in, Ferret has once again started to hang out down at the grocery store like old times. He has been a pitiful sight to behold. He doesn’t shave or bathe and he looks so sad and forlorn. He rarely says a word. He sits down there all day watching people come and go as his life passes him by.
This morning I walked down to the shopping center to pick up a half gallon of milk for my coffee in the cool morning air. Ferret was sitting on the bench between the Pig and the dollar store. I sat down next to him to smoke a cigarette before I entered the store and made my purchase. He has really let himself go these days. He looked about as grubby as you can get with really dirty clothes.
“How’s it going man?” I asked as I lit my cigarette and sat down.
“I ain’t feeling too well these days,” Ferret replied sullenly.
“You still living with your mother?” I asked.
“That bitch is driving me crazy,” He replied. “She keeps telling me to get a job.”
“Have you been down to the unemployment office?” I asked trying to continue the conversation.
“What’s with all the fucking questions?” He asked angrily,
“Woah, hold it man, I didn’t mean to piss you off,” I replied. “I was just trying to make conversation.”
“Well, I don’t need your fucking conversation,” He said as he turned to me with a weird look in his eyes.
This exchange had caught me off guard as normally Ferret is a pretty laid back fellow. I flicked the almost spent cigarette out into the parking lot with my middle finger and thumb and then started to get up to go in the store. Ferret reached into his coat pocket to pull out an empty cigarette packet. He looked into it trying to find one last cigarette, but to no avail. I handed him the rest of my pack and he had a “what the fuck?” expression on his face as I did this.
“Why are you giving me this?” He asked. “You never let people bum cigarettes.”
“I just thought you needed it, man,” I replied.
“I’ll pay you back,” He said.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said as I walked off and left to finish my shopping.
I know what it is like to be down and out and every little good thing can make all the difference such as those few cigarettes. I also know what it is like to feel crazy and to not have control of your life. I think Ferret is experiencing those very same things. I just hope he has the good sense or what is left of his sanity to get over to the mental health clinic and get some help. Somehow, I doubt it will happen though. When you get like that you need help from others or your family to pull out of it. From what I have heard, I don’t think Ferret’s mother is up to that task.
Saturday, October 29, 2005
A Dangerous Game
HIV/AIDS Guy has made a reappearance at the shopping center. He and Big S are playing a dangerous game these days. The Piggly Wiggly doesn’t have security cameras and the morning employees such as Linda and Virginia are not very attentive. Big S is the point man and watches while HIV/AIDS Guy shoplifts. Normally, Big S just sits out in front of the shopping center asking departing patrons for spare change. I don’t think I have ever seen him go inside the store until lately. I don’t understand why these two would risk going to jail over orange juice, Vienna sausages, and saltine crackers though. That is what HIV/AIDS Guy stole today. These fellows aren’t too bright and even have the audacity to brag about it to me and others down there.
I dread seeing HIV/Aids Guy in that I am too polite most times for my own good. I will usually sit and listen to his lengthy spiel about how sick he is and how he needs money for his medications. He always shows off that tattered hospital identification band on his wrist. He is actually quite fit and well and doesn’t have AIDS at all. That is just his panhandling line and it works quite well in that people are glad to give him a few dollars just to get rid of him.
George soon drove up carrying a few patrons via his fly-by-night taxi service. Two elderly and very hefty black ladies got out of the car and went inside to buy their groceries. The car rose up several inches as they ejected their great girth. George waved for me to walk over and sit in the car. I sat down and he handed me a Milwaukee’s Best Ice beer from his twelve pack. I cracked it open and took a swallow. I usually try to make it a rule not to have a beer before lunch, but gave in today.
“Do you know what Big S and HIV/AIDS Guy are up to these days?” I asked George.
“Yeap, dey be some dumb-ass niggas, ain’t dey?” George said.
At least George gets his money somewhat legitimately through his taxi service even though he isn’t licensed to do so by the city. George kind of performs a community service for the poor and car-less people in his neighborhood although they do have to pay. It would be much more expensive for them to go through the legitimate taxi firms in town.
“George, why don’t they panhandle up at the Kroger?” I asked speaking of Big S and HIV/AIDS Guy. “That is where all the rich people shop.”
“Dem folks at Kroger won’t let you do that,” George replied. “Dem folks be nervous types and will call the police.”
We both sat and took another drink from our beers.
“You ready for tomorrow?” I asked.
“What about tomorrow?” George asked with a confused tone to his voice.
“You said the other day that you were going to church and were going to be born again,” I replied.
George laughed heartily.
“Man, you know I be drunk and be talkin’ shit,” George said.
“Well, I thought you were serious,” I replied.
“Don’t be payin’ ole George any attention,” George said.
“Well man, I am going to head on home and catch some football games,” I replied.
“Cya my brotha, cya,” George said as he shook my hand.
If Big S or HIV/AIDS Guy disappear for a few days, I will know that their activities finally caught up with them. You can only do stupid shit like that so much until you will get caught. Especially, if you are standing out in front of the very same store you shoplifted from bragging about your exploits. Only time will tell.
I dread seeing HIV/Aids Guy in that I am too polite most times for my own good. I will usually sit and listen to his lengthy spiel about how sick he is and how he needs money for his medications. He always shows off that tattered hospital identification band on his wrist. He is actually quite fit and well and doesn’t have AIDS at all. That is just his panhandling line and it works quite well in that people are glad to give him a few dollars just to get rid of him.
George soon drove up carrying a few patrons via his fly-by-night taxi service. Two elderly and very hefty black ladies got out of the car and went inside to buy their groceries. The car rose up several inches as they ejected their great girth. George waved for me to walk over and sit in the car. I sat down and he handed me a Milwaukee’s Best Ice beer from his twelve pack. I cracked it open and took a swallow. I usually try to make it a rule not to have a beer before lunch, but gave in today.
“Do you know what Big S and HIV/AIDS Guy are up to these days?” I asked George.
“Yeap, dey be some dumb-ass niggas, ain’t dey?” George said.
At least George gets his money somewhat legitimately through his taxi service even though he isn’t licensed to do so by the city. George kind of performs a community service for the poor and car-less people in his neighborhood although they do have to pay. It would be much more expensive for them to go through the legitimate taxi firms in town.
“George, why don’t they panhandle up at the Kroger?” I asked speaking of Big S and HIV/AIDS Guy. “That is where all the rich people shop.”
“Dem folks at Kroger won’t let you do that,” George replied. “Dem folks be nervous types and will call the police.”
We both sat and took another drink from our beers.
“You ready for tomorrow?” I asked.
“What about tomorrow?” George asked with a confused tone to his voice.
“You said the other day that you were going to church and were going to be born again,” I replied.
George laughed heartily.
“Man, you know I be drunk and be talkin’ shit,” George said.
“Well, I thought you were serious,” I replied.
“Don’t be payin’ ole George any attention,” George said.
“Well man, I am going to head on home and catch some football games,” I replied.
“Cya my brotha, cya,” George said as he shook my hand.
If Big S or HIV/AIDS Guy disappear for a few days, I will know that their activities finally caught up with them. You can only do stupid shit like that so much until you will get caught. Especially, if you are standing out in front of the very same store you shoplifted from bragging about your exploits. Only time will tell.
Breakfast with Grubby
This morning I decided to drive over to the Waffle House by the interstate and eat breakfast. Sometimes, it is just so nice just to sit down and have your food brought to you like that. No dishes and pots and pans to wash. I also enjoy that the Waffle House is one of the last places where you can sit, smoke cigarettes, drink unlimited refills of coffee, and read the morning paper.
I ordered a ham and cheese omelete with hash browns, bacon, and an extra order of toast. As I was eating my meal and reading the paper this very grubby looking fellow walked in and sat down in the booth across from me. I tend to have a habit of people watching and the Waffle House always has interesting patrons. This fellow was short with long white hair and a long scruffy and scraggly white beard. He kind of reminded me of an overweight Willie Nelson. At one point he got up to put a quarter in the jukebox playing an old Patsy Cline song.
I kept getting this feeling I was being watched as well. Every time I would look up, this grubby looking fellow was staring at me. It gave me the creeps. He was sitting there drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. I would look up and his piercing eyes would be gazing right at me. I would quickly divert my eyes back to my newspaper and my cup of coffee fearing making eye contact. Maybe that was my mistake. I should have stared back.
I finally had had enough coffee and cigarettes and had read anything worth reading in the newspaper. I finished my cup and placed a two dollar tip on the table and then paid for my meal. Grubby’s eyes were still following my every move. This kind of piqued my paranoia a tad. I walked out and got in my car and drove home.
I wonder why that fellow was so interested in me. He definitely wins this morning’s award for creepy old man. Maybe he was mistaking me for someone else. That’s par for the course for the Waffle House though. It always draws some pretty interesting people off of the interstates; traveling far and wide.
I ordered a ham and cheese omelete with hash browns, bacon, and an extra order of toast. As I was eating my meal and reading the paper this very grubby looking fellow walked in and sat down in the booth across from me. I tend to have a habit of people watching and the Waffle House always has interesting patrons. This fellow was short with long white hair and a long scruffy and scraggly white beard. He kind of reminded me of an overweight Willie Nelson. At one point he got up to put a quarter in the jukebox playing an old Patsy Cline song.
I kept getting this feeling I was being watched as well. Every time I would look up, this grubby looking fellow was staring at me. It gave me the creeps. He was sitting there drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. I would look up and his piercing eyes would be gazing right at me. I would quickly divert my eyes back to my newspaper and my cup of coffee fearing making eye contact. Maybe that was my mistake. I should have stared back.
I finally had had enough coffee and cigarettes and had read anything worth reading in the newspaper. I finished my cup and placed a two dollar tip on the table and then paid for my meal. Grubby’s eyes were still following my every move. This kind of piqued my paranoia a tad. I walked out and got in my car and drove home.
I wonder why that fellow was so interested in me. He definitely wins this morning’s award for creepy old man. Maybe he was mistaking me for someone else. That’s par for the course for the Waffle House though. It always draws some pretty interesting people off of the interstates; traveling far and wide.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Saint George
George goes through periods where he desires to be “born again.” This evening I had an interesting conversation with George on the merits of religion. George can talk the talk, but can’t walk the walk. He is really interested in the fact that I am an atheist and do not believe in all that claptrap. (I don’t mean to offend any of my religious readers with that last statement. Each to his own I say. Believe what you want.) I tried to capture the essence of our conversation in the following dialogue.
______________________________________________________
I sat down on the bench in front of the Pig with my usual chocolate milk and cheese on wheat crackers. George was sitting next to me smoking a cigar and drinking a beer in a brown paper bag. Our conversation got on the subject of religion and this amused me.
“Dey be sayin’ dey ain’t no atheists in foxholes,” George said. “What did you believe when you were fightin’ dem sand niggas in Iraq?”
Long time readers will remember that George occasionally confuses me with someone else. He thinks I was a Navy Seal in Iraqi during the first Gulf War. I have never served in any armed service, but can’t argue with George about this. He gets all paranoid thinking I am covering up my goings-on in “special operations.” I usually just play along.
“George, it didn’t change my mind,” I said. “I still didn’t believe in gods and all that stuff.”
“Dem sand niggas believe in a god, don’t they?” George asked.
“It’s Allah,” I replied, “and they are Islamic.”
“Well, I don’t be knowin’ bout you, but dem niggas are goin’ to hell believin’ in dat shit,” George said.
I just kept a blank face and didn’t respond. A took another drink of my milk and ate a cracker.
“I think I be goin’ to church dis Sunday with Momma,” George said.
“What brought this on?” I asked and laughed.
“I just be gettin’ old and need to start thinkin’ bout Jesus,” George replied.
“George, you tried this born again routine once before and it didn’t last too long,” I said.
“I be serious dis time,” George replied.
We both grew quiet as George was doing some serious thinking and contemplation.
“Ain’t you worried about burning in hell?” George asked breaking the silence.
“No,” I said. “I don’t believe in all that so I have no worries.”
“Wouldn’t you rather believe and be safe,” George said. “Dat way even if there is no hell and if there could be hell you will still go to heaven.”
I never thought I would live a day where George tried to use a form of Pascal’s wager on me. I laughed and explained to George what Pascal’s wager was. It was getting kind of chilly and I decided to walk on home.
“What you going to be doing tonight, George?” I asked as I stood up to walk home.
George let a big toothy grin form on his face.
“I be getting drunk and lookin’ fo’ some pussy!” George exclaimed.
“George, I don’t think Jesus would approve of that routine,” I replied as I smiled and tried to stifle back another laugh.
“Well, I ain’t gonna be born again until Sunday so I am gonna live it up till then!” George said.
“I’ll see ya man,” I said as I walked away with a big smile on my face.
Somehow, I just don’t think George being born again is going to stick. It will be interesting to see how this goes.
I sat down on the bench in front of the Pig with my usual chocolate milk and cheese on wheat crackers. George was sitting next to me smoking a cigar and drinking a beer in a brown paper bag. Our conversation got on the subject of religion and this amused me.
“Dey be sayin’ dey ain’t no atheists in foxholes,” George said. “What did you believe when you were fightin’ dem sand niggas in Iraq?”
Long time readers will remember that George occasionally confuses me with someone else. He thinks I was a Navy Seal in Iraqi during the first Gulf War. I have never served in any armed service, but can’t argue with George about this. He gets all paranoid thinking I am covering up my goings-on in “special operations.” I usually just play along.
“George, it didn’t change my mind,” I said. “I still didn’t believe in gods and all that stuff.”
“Dem sand niggas believe in a god, don’t they?” George asked.
“It’s Allah,” I replied, “and they are Islamic.”
“Well, I don’t be knowin’ bout you, but dem niggas are goin’ to hell believin’ in dat shit,” George said.
I just kept a blank face and didn’t respond. A took another drink of my milk and ate a cracker.
“I think I be goin’ to church dis Sunday with Momma,” George said.
“What brought this on?” I asked and laughed.
“I just be gettin’ old and need to start thinkin’ bout Jesus,” George replied.
“George, you tried this born again routine once before and it didn’t last too long,” I said.
“I be serious dis time,” George replied.
We both grew quiet as George was doing some serious thinking and contemplation.
“Ain’t you worried about burning in hell?” George asked breaking the silence.
“No,” I said. “I don’t believe in all that so I have no worries.”
“Wouldn’t you rather believe and be safe,” George said. “Dat way even if there is no hell and if there could be hell you will still go to heaven.”
I never thought I would live a day where George tried to use a form of Pascal’s wager on me. I laughed and explained to George what Pascal’s wager was. It was getting kind of chilly and I decided to walk on home.
“What you going to be doing tonight, George?” I asked as I stood up to walk home.
George let a big toothy grin form on his face.
“I be getting drunk and lookin’ fo’ some pussy!” George exclaimed.
“George, I don’t think Jesus would approve of that routine,” I replied as I smiled and tried to stifle back another laugh.
“Well, I ain’t gonna be born again until Sunday so I am gonna live it up till then!” George said.
“I’ll see ya man,” I said as I walked away with a big smile on my face.
Somehow, I just don’t think George being born again is going to stick. It will be interesting to see how this goes.
Another World
As winter approaches and the days grew ever cooler, I have been trying to find an indoor hobby that suits me. One thing I am blessed with is large amounts of time. The cold weather will most likely mean that I will be indoors much more often. I still like camping in cold weather, but it can be trying most times. Your activities are dictated by the temperature.
I do like to read and there is almost a library of books in my parent’s garage. My mother was a school teacher for thirty years and was a voracious reader. She amassed a huge collection of books and it is nice to just walk across my yard and go pick out a new book. I have had the good fortune of reading some fine novels these past few weeks.
Although reading is good, I have been longing for something with more social interaction. Long ago, I was an avid online multiplayer computer game fanatic. (My ex-wife ended this as she wouldn’t let me play without world war three occurring.) I have been trying to get back into online gaming and have been playing a game called Battlefield 2.
The learning curve is steep though and it has a culture of its own. You also have to completely learn a new language as well. Many times today I was called a “nOOb” online cause I am still learning. Being called a “nOOb” is akin to an insult I have learned. Long time players think that they are in a league of their own and frown upon new players who are learning the ropes. I find it quite silly as new blood in the game means more points for them and more people to play with. Without new players the game would die.
As with anything, to get good at the game takes large amounts of practice. You have to learn the weapons and tactics. Having sixty four people running around on a server and shooting can get to be a very dangerous virtual environment.
Also, another thing that confounds me is that I play mainly in the mornings when most school children are in school. Most of the people I am playing with are most likely college students or adults. The lack of maturity displayed by some of these people never ceases to surprise me.
Earlier today I was on a server playing as a medic trying to heal my teammates and revive downed soldiers. I accidentally stepped on a friendly land mine and was killed. The game asked me if I was to punish the tk (team killer). I accidentally hit yes and the person who laid the mine went into this vicious tirade over losing just two points. He called me a “fucking prick” and a “fucking nOOb” and many other not so nice things. He even started a vote campaign to get me kicked from the server; all of this angst over two lost points and an accident by a new player. I just told him to put the mouse down and to go outside and play in the sandbox as he was acting like a small petulant child. That didn’t go over so well.
To me it is just a game and something fun to do to pass the time. If I ever start to take it that serious then I hope someone tells me to get a life and go outside. I would deserve it.
I do like to read and there is almost a library of books in my parent’s garage. My mother was a school teacher for thirty years and was a voracious reader. She amassed a huge collection of books and it is nice to just walk across my yard and go pick out a new book. I have had the good fortune of reading some fine novels these past few weeks.
Although reading is good, I have been longing for something with more social interaction. Long ago, I was an avid online multiplayer computer game fanatic. (My ex-wife ended this as she wouldn’t let me play without world war three occurring.) I have been trying to get back into online gaming and have been playing a game called Battlefield 2.
The learning curve is steep though and it has a culture of its own. You also have to completely learn a new language as well. Many times today I was called a “nOOb” online cause I am still learning. Being called a “nOOb” is akin to an insult I have learned. Long time players think that they are in a league of their own and frown upon new players who are learning the ropes. I find it quite silly as new blood in the game means more points for them and more people to play with. Without new players the game would die.
As with anything, to get good at the game takes large amounts of practice. You have to learn the weapons and tactics. Having sixty four people running around on a server and shooting can get to be a very dangerous virtual environment.
Also, another thing that confounds me is that I play mainly in the mornings when most school children are in school. Most of the people I am playing with are most likely college students or adults. The lack of maturity displayed by some of these people never ceases to surprise me.
Earlier today I was on a server playing as a medic trying to heal my teammates and revive downed soldiers. I accidentally stepped on a friendly land mine and was killed. The game asked me if I was to punish the tk (team killer). I accidentally hit yes and the person who laid the mine went into this vicious tirade over losing just two points. He called me a “fucking prick” and a “fucking nOOb” and many other not so nice things. He even started a vote campaign to get me kicked from the server; all of this angst over two lost points and an accident by a new player. I just told him to put the mouse down and to go outside and play in the sandbox as he was acting like a small petulant child. That didn’t go over so well.
To me it is just a game and something fun to do to pass the time. If I ever start to take it that serious then I hope someone tells me to get a life and go outside. I would deserve it.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
An Explanation
A received a kind and motivating email from someone I consider a friend who reads this blog. I also had a long and encouraging talk with my mother today over these issues and that helped as well. I wanted to take a moment to explain why I took my writings down for a few days.
The most persistent part of my illness is extreme paranoia thus why I am diagnosed as paranoid schizophrenic. For years, until I started getting an injection of Risperdal, I thought various nefarious entities were watching and following me. On my medication, this is drastically reduced, but from time to time I still struggle with it. It comes and goes much like the weather and I have no control of when it arrives or goes away. I often don’t realize my erroneous thinking unless a trusted outside entity “brings me back to reality” like my mother did today.
Lately, I got it into my head that various people are watching me and plotting against me through reading my blog thus my erratic behavior with this medium. The only way to dissipate the anxiety I was experiencing over this was to take down my writings and lay low for a few days until this passed. Also, the firing of a fellow blogger whom I held in high esteem also compounded these feelings of anxiety and paranoia.
Hopefully things will get back to normal in the next few days. I have done a lot of camping and testing my cold weather survival skills the past few days and have lots to write about if that subject interests you. It certainly interests me and it motivates me to try and capture the essence of my journeys in words.
On a lighter note, it is interesting to me who grandiose schizophrenia can make you. To think you are so important that a government or corporations are out to get you and are watching you. I am just a simple man living a simple life in a quiet and sleepy southern town. Why in the hell would anyone care so much as to be watching me or plotting against me? Writing this paragraph made me chuckle. I have no money; nothing of real value other than a car and shoddy home. I have nothing anybody would want to be honest.
The most persistent part of my illness is extreme paranoia thus why I am diagnosed as paranoid schizophrenic. For years, until I started getting an injection of Risperdal, I thought various nefarious entities were watching and following me. On my medication, this is drastically reduced, but from time to time I still struggle with it. It comes and goes much like the weather and I have no control of when it arrives or goes away. I often don’t realize my erroneous thinking unless a trusted outside entity “brings me back to reality” like my mother did today.
Lately, I got it into my head that various people are watching me and plotting against me through reading my blog thus my erratic behavior with this medium. The only way to dissipate the anxiety I was experiencing over this was to take down my writings and lay low for a few days until this passed. Also, the firing of a fellow blogger whom I held in high esteem also compounded these feelings of anxiety and paranoia.
Hopefully things will get back to normal in the next few days. I have done a lot of camping and testing my cold weather survival skills the past few days and have lots to write about if that subject interests you. It certainly interests me and it motivates me to try and capture the essence of my journeys in words.
On a lighter note, it is interesting to me who grandiose schizophrenia can make you. To think you are so important that a government or corporations are out to get you and are watching you. I am just a simple man living a simple life in a quiet and sleepy southern town. Why in the hell would anyone care so much as to be watching me or plotting against me? Writing this paragraph made me chuckle. I have no money; nothing of real value other than a car and shoddy home. I have nothing anybody would want to be honest.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Setting Out on a Cold Night
Last night, I set out to test my winter camping gear and survival skills. It was well after dark when I started walking up the road by my house out into the countryside. A cold wind greeted me and made me shiver. I wrapped up in my winter coat and held my head low to shield it from the wind. My heavy backpack kept my back warm. The pace of my hiking warmed me up and soon I was sweating.
Out spring road I trekked. I walked a few miles and then off the road up into the woods. I pulled out my flashlight and began to set up my Kelty tent. I had to clear the ground of limbs and rocks to get a flat surface to pitch it upon.
After pitching my tent, I settled in and made myself at home. It was too dark to look for wood for a fire and I couldn’t carry any with me so last night was fireless. I would have welcomed the warm glow and feel of a fire last night. A fire can be such a trusty and comforting companion when you are all alone in the woods; especially on a very chilly night. It was probably too windy for one anyway.
The hardest part of cold weather camping is keeping your hands and feet warm. Despite my heavy wool socks and hiking boots my feet soon grew cold. I pulled off my boots and socks and one by one held and rubbed my feet with my hands until they grew warm. I then lit one of the little “fire sticks” that goes into my hand warmer and it was a welcomed treat keeping my hands toasty warm. If only they had such a contraption for your feet.
I sat for the longest time listening to my radio. I didn’t feel like reading last night for some reason. I soon grew aggravated with the countless and numerous commercials and pulled off my headphones and placed that radio back into my backpack. I probably had gone through all the frequencies a dozen times and couldn’t find anything worth a shit to listen to. The only thing being aired was political talk shows. I find the likes of Sean Hannity and Rush Limbaugh to be blow-hard fools. Who ever said that the media has a left-wing bias has obviously never listened to AM radio.
What greeted me after putting away my radio was a cold and blustery northerly wind that whipped my tent and rushed through the leaves in the trees above me. Not a living thing could be heard and the lonesomeness of the situation set in. Here I was, all alone in the woods, not a person for miles around; just me and my thoughts. It is in these times I realize why we humans spend so much of our time in pursuit of entertainment or distractions. My mind raced as I went over many memories that made me cringe. So many things have happened to me over these 33 years of my life that I regret. So many wrong decisions. So many opportunities lost. I tried to turn my thoughts to more positive things, but it is so hard to do when you are wallowing in self pity.
I had finally had enough of my thoughts and regrets to last a lifetime. I unrolled my winter sleeping bag and climbed in after taking off all my clothes save my underwear and socks. It took a good thirty minutes before I was warm enough to sleep. I just laid there shivering until my body heat had warmed my bag.
Sleep finally overcame me, but it was a broken sleep. I would get too hot and would have to unzip my bag to cool down. I probably repeated this routine countless times during the night.
I awoke in the morning to frosty air and that brisk northerly wind was still blowing. Not a bird or animal was to be heard. I reached into the side pocket of my backpack to find I had forgotten to fill my water bottles. In my haste to set out the night before, I had forgotten one of the most important things when camping: water. Good fortune was with me though in that I had my pump water filter and the empty bottles with me. I walked down to the nearby creek in the cold morning air and pumped away until I had two bottles full. My serious case of cotton mouth was squelched.
As the sun rose, I had had enough of the cold air and the woods. I longed for my warm apartment and a healthy breakfast. I packed up my gear, pulled on my backpack, and set out down the road for home. Two miles later and after many rambling thoughts, I made it home. I turned on my gas heater and started a pot of coffee. Breakfast soon followed. Scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast; home at last and it was a successful testing of my gear.
Out spring road I trekked. I walked a few miles and then off the road up into the woods. I pulled out my flashlight and began to set up my Kelty tent. I had to clear the ground of limbs and rocks to get a flat surface to pitch it upon.
After pitching my tent, I settled in and made myself at home. It was too dark to look for wood for a fire and I couldn’t carry any with me so last night was fireless. I would have welcomed the warm glow and feel of a fire last night. A fire can be such a trusty and comforting companion when you are all alone in the woods; especially on a very chilly night. It was probably too windy for one anyway.
The hardest part of cold weather camping is keeping your hands and feet warm. Despite my heavy wool socks and hiking boots my feet soon grew cold. I pulled off my boots and socks and one by one held and rubbed my feet with my hands until they grew warm. I then lit one of the little “fire sticks” that goes into my hand warmer and it was a welcomed treat keeping my hands toasty warm. If only they had such a contraption for your feet.
I sat for the longest time listening to my radio. I didn’t feel like reading last night for some reason. I soon grew aggravated with the countless and numerous commercials and pulled off my headphones and placed that radio back into my backpack. I probably had gone through all the frequencies a dozen times and couldn’t find anything worth a shit to listen to. The only thing being aired was political talk shows. I find the likes of Sean Hannity and Rush Limbaugh to be blow-hard fools. Who ever said that the media has a left-wing bias has obviously never listened to AM radio.
What greeted me after putting away my radio was a cold and blustery northerly wind that whipped my tent and rushed through the leaves in the trees above me. Not a living thing could be heard and the lonesomeness of the situation set in. Here I was, all alone in the woods, not a person for miles around; just me and my thoughts. It is in these times I realize why we humans spend so much of our time in pursuit of entertainment or distractions. My mind raced as I went over many memories that made me cringe. So many things have happened to me over these 33 years of my life that I regret. So many wrong decisions. So many opportunities lost. I tried to turn my thoughts to more positive things, but it is so hard to do when you are wallowing in self pity.
I had finally had enough of my thoughts and regrets to last a lifetime. I unrolled my winter sleeping bag and climbed in after taking off all my clothes save my underwear and socks. It took a good thirty minutes before I was warm enough to sleep. I just laid there shivering until my body heat had warmed my bag.
Sleep finally overcame me, but it was a broken sleep. I would get too hot and would have to unzip my bag to cool down. I probably repeated this routine countless times during the night.
I awoke in the morning to frosty air and that brisk northerly wind was still blowing. Not a bird or animal was to be heard. I reached into the side pocket of my backpack to find I had forgotten to fill my water bottles. In my haste to set out the night before, I had forgotten one of the most important things when camping: water. Good fortune was with me though in that I had my pump water filter and the empty bottles with me. I walked down to the nearby creek in the cold morning air and pumped away until I had two bottles full. My serious case of cotton mouth was squelched.
As the sun rose, I had had enough of the cold air and the woods. I longed for my warm apartment and a healthy breakfast. I packed up my gear, pulled on my backpack, and set out down the road for home. Two miles later and after many rambling thoughts, I made it home. I turned on my gas heater and started a pot of coffee. Breakfast soon followed. Scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast; home at last and it was a successful testing of my gear.
Monday, October 24, 2005
A Cold Wind Blows
Fall finally arrived in the south. It has been a briskly windy and cool day; the kind of weather that makes you turn up your coat collar to shield against the cold and the wind. Winter is soon to follow.
The dogwood trees, as always, show the first glimpses of fall. The bright hues of their leaves are just starting to show. Also, the muscadine vines (wild Indian grapes) in my backyard are starting to reveal their fall colors as well. Soon, we will be awash in colors of red, orange, and yellow.
I look forward to winter with a solemn heart. The green grass will turn brown. The leaves will fall from the trees. The northern hemisphere will once again grow dormant for another year. As usual, those of us in the south will be spared the beauty and excitement of snow. Winter is so boring here.
Bucker up my good lad for excitement is within the heart. This winter shall be warm and with plenty of admiral pursuits; lots of good reading, coffee, and tobacco. Those are the things that cast aside the doldrums of winter.
The dogwood trees, as always, show the first glimpses of fall. The bright hues of their leaves are just starting to show. Also, the muscadine vines (wild Indian grapes) in my backyard are starting to reveal their fall colors as well. Soon, we will be awash in colors of red, orange, and yellow.
I look forward to winter with a solemn heart. The green grass will turn brown. The leaves will fall from the trees. The northern hemisphere will once again grow dormant for another year. As usual, those of us in the south will be spared the beauty and excitement of snow. Winter is so boring here.
Bucker up my good lad for excitement is within the heart. This winter shall be warm and with plenty of admiral pursuits; lots of good reading, coffee, and tobacco. Those are the things that cast aside the doldrums of winter.
Saturday, October 22, 2005
The Weekend at Last
What a busy week I have had! I had almost forgotten what a welcome reprieve Saturday and Sunday can be. For years they were just another day and usually boring days as well as my normal routines would be disrupted.
I have found that weekends are definitely not prime time for blogging. Most of the blogs I really enjoy seem to fall dormant for two days every weekend. The counts on my hit counter also precipitously drop every weekend. I have a sneaking suspicion that there is a lot of blog reading and writing going on during work time.
I was occasionally guilty of this when I was a research technician at a major University. I had my own office complete with a nice computer and a really fast internet connection. It was a daily struggle to not be tempted by the internet. I would feel so guilty when I would use University time to catch up on my daily reads and would try to limit it to only my lunch hour. Many evenings, I would stay late after work so I could browse the internet as I didn’t have a computer or internet connection at home at the time. That was such a good job, but stupid me wanted to be a long haul truck driver. What a monumental mistake!
I decided to publish a post I wrote last night after I got off of work. I am breaking one of my three cardinal sins about blogging for me. One is not to write about work. Two is not to write about my mental illness too often because who wants to read about that depressing shit everyday? I certainly do not want to write about it. Three is to try my best to not use real names on this blog. (I named the offending cat in the following blog post. lol) I have been known to lapse on these rules and did so again. Sometimes, you just don’t have anything else to write about.
One of the main reasons I dislike writing about work is that it is a very dangerous thing to do. A blog author whom I really admire and very much enjoy his writings got fired last week because of his blogs. If you are going to blog about work, make damn sure you are completely anonymous and these days I am not sure that is even feasible with IP addresses and such. It was a good thing that the blog author spoken about above didn’t have kids, mortgage, or many of the things that keep us so enslaved to our jobs. He is in a much better position to bounce back so to speak.
Well, I am off to enjoy a Saturday afternoon of epic southeastern conference football games. I may even have a few beers and fry a pan of that delicious sausage I procured earlier in the week. It is time to lay back, kick up my feet, and revel in the fact that I successfully made it through a taxing week despite my limitations. Good day and may your team win!
I have found that weekends are definitely not prime time for blogging. Most of the blogs I really enjoy seem to fall dormant for two days every weekend. The counts on my hit counter also precipitously drop every weekend. I have a sneaking suspicion that there is a lot of blog reading and writing going on during work time.
I was occasionally guilty of this when I was a research technician at a major University. I had my own office complete with a nice computer and a really fast internet connection. It was a daily struggle to not be tempted by the internet. I would feel so guilty when I would use University time to catch up on my daily reads and would try to limit it to only my lunch hour. Many evenings, I would stay late after work so I could browse the internet as I didn’t have a computer or internet connection at home at the time. That was such a good job, but stupid me wanted to be a long haul truck driver. What a monumental mistake!
I decided to publish a post I wrote last night after I got off of work. I am breaking one of my three cardinal sins about blogging for me. One is not to write about work. Two is not to write about my mental illness too often because who wants to read about that depressing shit everyday? I certainly do not want to write about it. Three is to try my best to not use real names on this blog. (I named the offending cat in the following blog post. lol) I have been known to lapse on these rules and did so again. Sometimes, you just don’t have anything else to write about.
One of the main reasons I dislike writing about work is that it is a very dangerous thing to do. A blog author whom I really admire and very much enjoy his writings got fired last week because of his blogs. If you are going to blog about work, make damn sure you are completely anonymous and these days I am not sure that is even feasible with IP addresses and such. It was a good thing that the blog author spoken about above didn’t have kids, mortgage, or many of the things that keep us so enslaved to our jobs. He is in a much better position to bounce back so to speak.
Well, I am off to enjoy a Saturday afternoon of epic southeastern conference football games. I may even have a few beers and fry a pan of that delicious sausage I procured earlier in the week. It is time to lay back, kick up my feet, and revel in the fact that I successfully made it through a taxing week despite my limitations. Good day and may your team win!
Friday, October 21, 2005
Someone Hit Rewind, Please?
Do you ever have those days where you want to hit rewind and start it all over again hoping things may turn out different? I had a horrendous day at work today. I had to deliver a hospital bed to a local housing project. She was an elderly lady and I couldn’t understand a word she said. Her son was also there, but he was of no help as he was drunk and reeked of alcohol. He mainly just got in the way and made a nuisance of himself. Don’t let me get started about their cat. What started out as a simple project of putting together a bed and showing the inhabitants how to use it got complicated quick!
First, I had a hell of a time getting that bed together. It was extremely hot in their apartment and I was dripping wet with sweat from my exertions. My shirt was soaked by the time I got that bed together. The cat also stayed under my feet and I almost fell several times tripping over him. That was one attention deprived and needy cat. The cats name was “what up?” What kind of a name for a cat is that? It made me chuckle every time I heard the son say it.
I finally got the bed put together and working correctly. The elderly lady wanted to lay on it and try it out. I showed her how to use the controls. She laid upon the bed and was displeased with the side rail. I took it off. She still was not happy as she said the bed was too high. I got out the crank and cranked it down to the lowest level; nope, still not happy. It was as low as it would go and there was nothing else I could do. She said she would just have to live with it I believe. I hardly could understand a word and would have to ask her to repeat what she said many times. She grew frustrated with this routine and I did as well.
Next was paperwork. I don’t want to even go there as it would tire me to even write about it. I will just say it was so damn frustrating. I earned every dollar and cent I made today.
I am so exhausted and will probably hit the bed soon. I have done nothing but sit on my ass in front of this computer and tinker with my blog template since I have gotten home. I am even too tired to fix supper. Oh, the joys of a working man!
First, I had a hell of a time getting that bed together. It was extremely hot in their apartment and I was dripping wet with sweat from my exertions. My shirt was soaked by the time I got that bed together. The cat also stayed under my feet and I almost fell several times tripping over him. That was one attention deprived and needy cat. The cats name was “what up?” What kind of a name for a cat is that? It made me chuckle every time I heard the son say it.
I finally got the bed put together and working correctly. The elderly lady wanted to lay on it and try it out. I showed her how to use the controls. She laid upon the bed and was displeased with the side rail. I took it off. She still was not happy as she said the bed was too high. I got out the crank and cranked it down to the lowest level; nope, still not happy. It was as low as it would go and there was nothing else I could do. She said she would just have to live with it I believe. I hardly could understand a word and would have to ask her to repeat what she said many times. She grew frustrated with this routine and I did as well.
Next was paperwork. I don’t want to even go there as it would tire me to even write about it. I will just say it was so damn frustrating. I earned every dollar and cent I made today.
I am so exhausted and will probably hit the bed soon. I have done nothing but sit on my ass in front of this computer and tinker with my blog template since I have gotten home. I am even too tired to fix supper. Oh, the joys of a working man!
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Journey to the Meat House
I dedicated a day to my great auntie Myrtis today. I did something that thrilled her soul. She never learned to drive and is dependent upon me and my father for getting around. She has been talking for weeks about going to the “meat house”. They have this fabled stuffed sausage that is some of the best sausage you have ever eaten. I have never been up there, but have heard her talk about it for years and years. She called me this morning and asked if I would drive her up to Roanoke, Alabama to go shopping there. I told her I would be glad to.
Since she had never driven, she was not too up to date on how to get there. I haven’t been to Roanoke, Alabama in probably ten years as well. All she knew was that the “meat house” was over the hill past the hospital; very vague directions at best. I picked her up in Waverly and then drove on towards Lafayette and got on highway 431 headed towards Roanoke. I was amazed I remaindered how to get to Roanoke without looking at a map. We finally arrived in town and I started to follow the blue hospital signs hoping she was right. We passed the hospital and we drove and drove until finally she spotted the establishment. “There!” She said excitedly as she pointed off to the left.
The “meat house” as my great auntie calls it is actually really called Clarke Brothers Meats. It is a family owned butcher shop which is a dying breed these days. They actually cut your choices of meat and fulfill your orders behind a counter right in front of you. They had the most beautiful cuts of meat I have ever seen. I was drooling over the $6.99/lb t-bone steaks. They looked so delicious and I wouldn’t have minded throwing a few of those on a charcoal grill after being marinated overnight.
My normally EXTREMELY frugal great aunt was very generous today. For me taking her, she bought me several pounds of that delectable sausage, two pounds of old style hoop cheese, and one of the prettiest roasts I have ever seen. I don’t think I have ever seen her spend so much money at one time in all my life. She now has a freezer full of some of the prettiest cuts of meat I have ever seen.
I really enjoyed spending time with her today and she was quite pleasant to be around for a change and wasn’t so negative today. I think she was just so overjoyed with having the chance to get out and ride in the car for several hours as we chatted. The experience certainly did thrill her soul and I felt good for making this eighty seven year old ladies day.
Since she had never driven, she was not too up to date on how to get there. I haven’t been to Roanoke, Alabama in probably ten years as well. All she knew was that the “meat house” was over the hill past the hospital; very vague directions at best. I picked her up in Waverly and then drove on towards Lafayette and got on highway 431 headed towards Roanoke. I was amazed I remaindered how to get to Roanoke without looking at a map. We finally arrived in town and I started to follow the blue hospital signs hoping she was right. We passed the hospital and we drove and drove until finally she spotted the establishment. “There!” She said excitedly as she pointed off to the left.
The “meat house” as my great auntie calls it is actually really called Clarke Brothers Meats. It is a family owned butcher shop which is a dying breed these days. They actually cut your choices of meat and fulfill your orders behind a counter right in front of you. They had the most beautiful cuts of meat I have ever seen. I was drooling over the $6.99/lb t-bone steaks. They looked so delicious and I wouldn’t have minded throwing a few of those on a charcoal grill after being marinated overnight.
My normally EXTREMELY frugal great aunt was very generous today. For me taking her, she bought me several pounds of that delectable sausage, two pounds of old style hoop cheese, and one of the prettiest roasts I have ever seen. I don’t think I have ever seen her spend so much money at one time in all my life. She now has a freezer full of some of the prettiest cuts of meat I have ever seen.
I really enjoyed spending time with her today and she was quite pleasant to be around for a change and wasn’t so negative today. I think she was just so overjoyed with having the chance to get out and ride in the car for several hours as we chatted. The experience certainly did thrill her soul and I felt good for making this eighty seven year old ladies day.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Back in the Saddle
I just haven’t felt like writing the last few days and what I have written, I have been very displeased with and didn’t publish. I guess I am just going through a phase with this blog, but will try to get back in the saddle so to speak.
Much has gone on the past few days and I actually have a lot to write about despite my apparent loss of words. Sometimes, I just don’t want to share everything that happens with the world. Some things are better kept to my self. I sometimes find it hard to know what to share and what writings cross that line of not being publishable. In these times, I take a break and focus on other things and fall silent.
Most nights these days, I sleep out in my tent in the backyard. I am experiencing this period where I feel intensely claustrophobic at night in my home as if the walls are closing in around me. I am actually able to sleep better outside wrapped up in my sleeping bag in the great outdoors. I know my neighbors must think I am crazy and I am. That, I will freely admit.
We have had some beautiful warm days lately, but very cold nights. This morning I woke up at my usual five am and turned on my flashlight to read the time on my watch. I could see my breath it was so cold. I unzipped the door of my tent and poked my head out. I was greeted by a beautiful full moon on the western horizon that was casting looming shadows and its pale white light upon everything. It was a beautiful sight and evoked thoughts of the many cold and brilliantly clear winter nights I witnessed during my nomadic homeless days.
The cold spurred me to dress myself and come inside to get my morning coffee going. I then walked outside to smoke a cigarette and to check on Lucky, Charlie’s dog. Charlie had brought him the night before as the workers had finally finished the chain link fence in my back yard. Lucky was laying almost lifeless in the grass. He was ice-cold to the touch and was barely breathing. The shock of having to move to a new home had been too great for this frail fifteen year old dog. He whimpered softly as I tried to stir him.
I rushed inside and got an extension cord and a heating pad. I placed the pad on Lucky hoping it would warm him up. When dawn finally arrived and I was sure Charlie had awakened, I called him and told him that Lucky was near death and needed to be put to sleep. Charlie come over within minutes and carried Lucky to the Veterinarian to have him put down. There was nothing the Vet could do for Lucky and the dog could no longer even walk. It was truly sad and brought a few tears to my eyes as I watched Charlie carry his listless body to the car; knowing that would be Lucky’s final ride in this life. Damn that Uncle Bob and his damnable goats that caused this!
Much has gone on the past few days and I actually have a lot to write about despite my apparent loss of words. Sometimes, I just don’t want to share everything that happens with the world. Some things are better kept to my self. I sometimes find it hard to know what to share and what writings cross that line of not being publishable. In these times, I take a break and focus on other things and fall silent.
Most nights these days, I sleep out in my tent in the backyard. I am experiencing this period where I feel intensely claustrophobic at night in my home as if the walls are closing in around me. I am actually able to sleep better outside wrapped up in my sleeping bag in the great outdoors. I know my neighbors must think I am crazy and I am. That, I will freely admit.
We have had some beautiful warm days lately, but very cold nights. This morning I woke up at my usual five am and turned on my flashlight to read the time on my watch. I could see my breath it was so cold. I unzipped the door of my tent and poked my head out. I was greeted by a beautiful full moon on the western horizon that was casting looming shadows and its pale white light upon everything. It was a beautiful sight and evoked thoughts of the many cold and brilliantly clear winter nights I witnessed during my nomadic homeless days.
The cold spurred me to dress myself and come inside to get my morning coffee going. I then walked outside to smoke a cigarette and to check on Lucky, Charlie’s dog. Charlie had brought him the night before as the workers had finally finished the chain link fence in my back yard. Lucky was laying almost lifeless in the grass. He was ice-cold to the touch and was barely breathing. The shock of having to move to a new home had been too great for this frail fifteen year old dog. He whimpered softly as I tried to stir him.
I rushed inside and got an extension cord and a heating pad. I placed the pad on Lucky hoping it would warm him up. When dawn finally arrived and I was sure Charlie had awakened, I called him and told him that Lucky was near death and needed to be put to sleep. Charlie come over within minutes and carried Lucky to the Veterinarian to have him put down. There was nothing the Vet could do for Lucky and the dog could no longer even walk. It was truly sad and brought a few tears to my eyes as I watched Charlie carry his listless body to the car; knowing that would be Lucky’s final ride in this life. Damn that Uncle Bob and his damnable goats that caused this!
Goodbye Lucky
Well, the workers finally finished the chain link fence. Charlie brought Lucky, the Siberian husky, over yesterday and put him in the fence and built a shelter for him. I found out Lucky was fifteen years old. Lucky didn’t survive the move and it was sad. It was too much of a shock to his system. Damn that crazy Uncle Bob and his stupid goats.
I woke up at my usual time of 5 am and started my coffee. I have been sleeping in my tent at night in the backyard. After starting my coffee, I walked back outside to smoke a cigarette and to check on Lucky. The full moon was shining brightly this morning casting ominous shadows. I walked into the fence and found Lucky lying in the grass, ice-cold, and barely breathing. He would yelp if I tried to move him. I went back inside and got an extension cord and a heating blanket and put it over the dog. When dawn arrived, I called Charlie and let him know that Lucky was almost dead and needed to be put to sleep. Charlie came over and took the dog to the veterinarian to have him put down. It was really sad and I had to choke back tears. I don’t handle death very well.
Other than what happened this morning, it has been really quiet around here and I have spent my days enjoying the last few warm days left and reading lots of fiction and playing computer games. I haven’t had anything really to write about and that is odd for me. I can usually write about nothing and make a post for my blog. I have been at a complete loss for words these days.
It has been in the mid to lower eighties every day and we are supposed to have a record high of 88 degrees tomorrow. Despite these record daily highs it has been really cold at night for this time of year in the south. The humidity is exceptionally low and this causes enhanced radiational cooling.
When I awoke in my sleeping bag this morning, the first thing I saw in the glow of my flashlight as I looked at my watch was my breath. It was that cold this morning. I had to use my fleece liner inside my summer sleeping bag to stay warm all night and awoke several times very chilled. I almost gave up and went back inside to sleep, but I seem to sleep better outdoors in my tent. I know my neighbors must think I am crazy and I am. I have just felt like the walls of my apartment were closing in on me at night and I have been feeling claustrophobic.
I woke up at my usual time of 5 am and started my coffee. I have been sleeping in my tent at night in the backyard. After starting my coffee, I walked back outside to smoke a cigarette and to check on Lucky. The full moon was shining brightly this morning casting ominous shadows. I walked into the fence and found Lucky lying in the grass, ice-cold, and barely breathing. He would yelp if I tried to move him. I went back inside and got an extension cord and a heating blanket and put it over the dog. When dawn arrived, I called Charlie and let him know that Lucky was almost dead and needed to be put to sleep. Charlie came over and took the dog to the veterinarian to have him put down. It was really sad and I had to choke back tears. I don’t handle death very well.
Other than what happened this morning, it has been really quiet around here and I have spent my days enjoying the last few warm days left and reading lots of fiction and playing computer games. I haven’t had anything really to write about and that is odd for me. I can usually write about nothing and make a post for my blog. I have been at a complete loss for words these days.
It has been in the mid to lower eighties every day and we are supposed to have a record high of 88 degrees tomorrow. Despite these record daily highs it has been really cold at night for this time of year in the south. The humidity is exceptionally low and this causes enhanced radiational cooling.
When I awoke in my sleeping bag this morning, the first thing I saw in the glow of my flashlight as I looked at my watch was my breath. It was that cold this morning. I had to use my fleece liner inside my summer sleeping bag to stay warm all night and awoke several times very chilled. I almost gave up and went back inside to sleep, but I seem to sleep better outdoors in my tent. I know my neighbors must think I am crazy and I am. I have just felt like the walls of my apartment were closing in on me at night and I have been feeling claustrophobic.
Sunday, October 16, 2005
A Trek Passed By
My parents went to Birmingham to stay the night with my sister this weekend. I was invited, but declined and decided to stay home. I am just not that close to my sister and would have felt uncomfortable sleeping in her spare bedroom. This will probably cause some contention with my father, but I do not care. I just didn’t feel like driving two and a half hours up there and sleeping in a strange bed and most likely not getting very much sleep. It is not as if she ever calls me or comes over when she is in town anyway. I guess I am acting like an insolent child.
Not much to report today. To pass the time, I have been drinking beer and playing a game called Morrowind and leveling up my imperial warrior by doing various quests. I rarely play computer games anymore as they all seem like work, but this game has caught my attention and is eating up my time. I have had it for years and have never even installed it to try it.)
Earlier, an animal control officer stopped by the house to ask whom the dog in my yard belonged to. I explained it was Rosie, our neighbor’s dog. (Rosie stops by everyday for a treat from me.) The officer gave Rosie a dog biscuit and petted her to the point she became ecstatic. She warned me that the other animal control officer would have written a ticket and told me to warn my neighbors. What a nice and pleasant lady. It was my pleasure getting to talk to her and watch her interact with Rosie.
Not much to report today. To pass the time, I have been drinking beer and playing a game called Morrowind and leveling up my imperial warrior by doing various quests. I rarely play computer games anymore as they all seem like work, but this game has caught my attention and is eating up my time. I have had it for years and have never even installed it to try it.)
Earlier, an animal control officer stopped by the house to ask whom the dog in my yard belonged to. I explained it was Rosie, our neighbor’s dog. (Rosie stops by everyday for a treat from me.) The officer gave Rosie a dog biscuit and petted her to the point she became ecstatic. She warned me that the other animal control officer would have written a ticket and told me to warn my neighbors. What a nice and pleasant lady. It was my pleasure getting to talk to her and watch her interact with Rosie.
Saturday, October 15, 2005
A Cold Morning Dawns
I go through periods like this where I get really into something. I have been kind of obsessed with camping this week. The weather has just been perfect for it.
Yesterday, I didn’t have to work very long and headed out pretty early to the woods. The workers erecting the chain link fence in my back yard have been getting on my nerves with their noise and banter and it is right outside my windows.
With a sigh of relief, my tent was once again where I had left it and was still set up. I need to break out of this lazy habit once hunting season starts. I had gambled once again and the gamble had paid off.
Where I like to camp on our land is a beautiful spot. It is a large meadow of broom sedge surround by tall pine forests. At the top edge of the sloping meadow is a nice clearing amid the trees with the forest floor covered with pine straw so it makes for a soft place to pitch the tent and to sleep upon. The meadow is on one of the highest hill tops around so the view to the west clears the treetops so I can get astounding views of a broad horizon and the setting sun. There are also old logging roads leading right up to it so I can drive my car right up to where I am camping so I don’t have to hike in from a distance carrying all my gear.
Yesterday was a beautiful day with the highs in the low eighties. The dogwood trees are the only trees starting to show hints of fall color so everything is still green as if it were summer. There was a slight warm breeze that made things all the more comfortable.
I once again got a fire ready, but waited till closer to dark to light it. The temperatures were forecast to get really cool under clear skies and with enhanced radiational cooling. I had come prepared with plenty of warm clothes and my winter sleeping bag just in case.
For meals, I had brought some different freeze dried meals to try out. MREs are much tastier to me, but freeze dried meals are so light weight and less bulky. For supper, I had beef stroganoff with noodles. It tasted okay. Freeze dried technology has definitely come a long way. For dessert, I had something called apple brown betty with a streusel topping. They both were very filling.
The sun was growing ever lower on the horizon so I got my fire started. Already, the chill of the air began to make me uncomfortable. I took off my shorts and then put on some long pants and a sweater. I sat cross-legged by the fire and started reading Mark Childress’ Crazy in Alabama for a second time. What a delightful book and easy to read. It was a far cry from Joseph Conrad’s Lord Jim. Now that book was hard to read and I almost didn’t finish it. I would also occasionally take a drink and a smoke. What a delightful little liquor that Southern Comfort is and when imbibed with that rich, aromatic smoke of Sir Walter from my pipe made for a very pleasurable duo.
I finally had drank so much that I was pretty drunk and could no longer concentrate on the words on the pages. I put my book back into my backpack and pulled out my radio. I never listen to country music unless I am pretty drunk and sat for the longest time listening. Occasionally, the wood of my fire would settle sending thousand of firefly-like embers wafting up into the air. The sky above me was filled with thousands of diamond-like twinkling stars. On these times, I can get so lost in the moment.
The fire had finally died down and I was out of wood to bolster it. The increasing chill of the air also grew more uncomfortable despite my heavy sweater and think pants. I finished off that bottle and had one last pipe and climbed into my sleeping bag. I was so sloshed I fell to sleep almost immediately and didn’t wake up until seven am. The first pale blue light of dawn was in the sky.
What a chilly morning! I had a hard time making myself get out of that sleeping bag. I slept in only my underwear and when I crawled out I immediately began to shiver. Brrrrrr! I quickly put on some warm clothes and got some breakfast started. I boiled some water with my camp stove and prepared a pouch of hash brown casserole and then fixed a pot of coffee. That hot food and the coffee immediately warmed me up.
I piddled around for quite awhile longer mainly just enjoying the quiet solitude of the woods and a beautiful but chilly morning. I was being so lazy today. I finally got off my ass and loaded up my gear into my car. Once again I left my tent in the woods. I cranked up my car, navigated those old logging roads, and drove home.
Yesterday, I didn’t have to work very long and headed out pretty early to the woods. The workers erecting the chain link fence in my back yard have been getting on my nerves with their noise and banter and it is right outside my windows.
With a sigh of relief, my tent was once again where I had left it and was still set up. I need to break out of this lazy habit once hunting season starts. I had gambled once again and the gamble had paid off.
Where I like to camp on our land is a beautiful spot. It is a large meadow of broom sedge surround by tall pine forests. At the top edge of the sloping meadow is a nice clearing amid the trees with the forest floor covered with pine straw so it makes for a soft place to pitch the tent and to sleep upon. The meadow is on one of the highest hill tops around so the view to the west clears the treetops so I can get astounding views of a broad horizon and the setting sun. There are also old logging roads leading right up to it so I can drive my car right up to where I am camping so I don’t have to hike in from a distance carrying all my gear.
Yesterday was a beautiful day with the highs in the low eighties. The dogwood trees are the only trees starting to show hints of fall color so everything is still green as if it were summer. There was a slight warm breeze that made things all the more comfortable.
I once again got a fire ready, but waited till closer to dark to light it. The temperatures were forecast to get really cool under clear skies and with enhanced radiational cooling. I had come prepared with plenty of warm clothes and my winter sleeping bag just in case.
For meals, I had brought some different freeze dried meals to try out. MREs are much tastier to me, but freeze dried meals are so light weight and less bulky. For supper, I had beef stroganoff with noodles. It tasted okay. Freeze dried technology has definitely come a long way. For dessert, I had something called apple brown betty with a streusel topping. They both were very filling.
The sun was growing ever lower on the horizon so I got my fire started. Already, the chill of the air began to make me uncomfortable. I took off my shorts and then put on some long pants and a sweater. I sat cross-legged by the fire and started reading Mark Childress’ Crazy in Alabama for a second time. What a delightful book and easy to read. It was a far cry from Joseph Conrad’s Lord Jim. Now that book was hard to read and I almost didn’t finish it. I would also occasionally take a drink and a smoke. What a delightful little liquor that Southern Comfort is and when imbibed with that rich, aromatic smoke of Sir Walter from my pipe made for a very pleasurable duo.
I finally had drank so much that I was pretty drunk and could no longer concentrate on the words on the pages. I put my book back into my backpack and pulled out my radio. I never listen to country music unless I am pretty drunk and sat for the longest time listening. Occasionally, the wood of my fire would settle sending thousand of firefly-like embers wafting up into the air. The sky above me was filled with thousands of diamond-like twinkling stars. On these times, I can get so lost in the moment.
The fire had finally died down and I was out of wood to bolster it. The increasing chill of the air also grew more uncomfortable despite my heavy sweater and think pants. I finished off that bottle and had one last pipe and climbed into my sleeping bag. I was so sloshed I fell to sleep almost immediately and didn’t wake up until seven am. The first pale blue light of dawn was in the sky.
What a chilly morning! I had a hard time making myself get out of that sleeping bag. I slept in only my underwear and when I crawled out I immediately began to shiver. Brrrrrr! I quickly put on some warm clothes and got some breakfast started. I boiled some water with my camp stove and prepared a pouch of hash brown casserole and then fixed a pot of coffee. That hot food and the coffee immediately warmed me up.
I piddled around for quite awhile longer mainly just enjoying the quiet solitude of the woods and a beautiful but chilly morning. I was being so lazy today. I finally got off my ass and loaded up my gear into my car. Once again I left my tent in the woods. I cranked up my car, navigated those old logging roads, and drove home.
Friday, October 14, 2005
Weird Auditory Stuff
For the last few months, I have been hearing what sounds like a car door shutting loudly outside intermittently. It sounds like it was coming from my driveway, but there is never a car outside when I go look. It was very disconcerting and alarming to say the least.
This week has been even weirder as I hear what sounds like someone pacing back and forth in my late grandmother’s bedroom. It is the same room she died in and is directly above where I sit at my computer. The floor will creak and moan for several minutes and then it will be quiet for hours.
I don’t believe in ghosts or the supernatural so it must be auditory hallucinations. Those are something I have only experienced with my disease on a very seldom basis.
I even went so far as to call Charlie this morning and ask him if his son Randall has been sleeping over here during the day. Charlie is selling his other home and when he has guests to view it he will bring Randall over here to sleep as he stays up all night watching television. It is like Randall to pace continuously and would explain the sounds I am hearing. Charlie told me that, no, Randall hadn’t been over here in weeks.
Yesterday, I was kind of manic and schizoid about my blog and writing as well. I wrote a total of five lengthy posts yesterday, but only published two and debated on keeping up that latter one. I tend to stay so cut off from social contact and other people that I find it hard to discern what is appropriate writing and material to publish. This will cause me to write something in a flurry of creativity and then publish it. Later, I read it and decide that maybe it was too harsh or poorly written or too personal and I will take it down only to possibly put it back up later. It is damn frustrating to be so wishy-washy about what I write and the censorship takes a toll sometimes on my feelings about writing publicly.
When I get to feeling like I have the past few days, I wish I had a little white pill that I could take to make me sleep for days until this current storm passes. I want so much to crawl in the bed and sleep for days, but every time I take off my clothes and lay down I cannot sleep or rest. I am manic as can be. Maybe a few beers will help calm my nerves. That always seems to help, but I hate to self medicate like that with a substance I have had problems with in the past.
This week has been even weirder as I hear what sounds like someone pacing back and forth in my late grandmother’s bedroom. It is the same room she died in and is directly above where I sit at my computer. The floor will creak and moan for several minutes and then it will be quiet for hours.
I don’t believe in ghosts or the supernatural so it must be auditory hallucinations. Those are something I have only experienced with my disease on a very seldom basis.
I even went so far as to call Charlie this morning and ask him if his son Randall has been sleeping over here during the day. Charlie is selling his other home and when he has guests to view it he will bring Randall over here to sleep as he stays up all night watching television. It is like Randall to pace continuously and would explain the sounds I am hearing. Charlie told me that, no, Randall hadn’t been over here in weeks.
Yesterday, I was kind of manic and schizoid about my blog and writing as well. I wrote a total of five lengthy posts yesterday, but only published two and debated on keeping up that latter one. I tend to stay so cut off from social contact and other people that I find it hard to discern what is appropriate writing and material to publish. This will cause me to write something in a flurry of creativity and then publish it. Later, I read it and decide that maybe it was too harsh or poorly written or too personal and I will take it down only to possibly put it back up later. It is damn frustrating to be so wishy-washy about what I write and the censorship takes a toll sometimes on my feelings about writing publicly.
When I get to feeling like I have the past few days, I wish I had a little white pill that I could take to make me sleep for days until this current storm passes. I want so much to crawl in the bed and sleep for days, but every time I take off my clothes and lay down I cannot sleep or rest. I am manic as can be. Maybe a few beers will help calm my nerves. That always seems to help, but I hate to self medicate like that with a substance I have had problems with in the past.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
A Missed Dinner Date
Every Thursday, I and my mother go out to eat for dinner. I waited around all day and she didn’t call as she normally does to confirm the time and to make sure that I am still up to it. I grew worried around five o’clock when we normally leave and called her.
“Mom?” I asked as she answered the phone. “Are you okay?”
She sounded as if she had been in the deepest of sleeps and almost as if she didn’t recognize me.
“I am fine,” She said as she slurred her words.
“Did you forget about our dinner date?” I asked.
“What about dinner?” She asked.
“Don’t you worry about it and go back to sleep,” I replied.
We both hung up. I was just glad she was okay.
Many hours later the phone rang and I waited for my answering machine to answer. It was mom and I picked up the phone.
“Listen, I am so sorry about today,” She said. “I was just feeling so tired today and forgot about tonight. You are not out done with me, are you?”
“Mom, don’t you fret about that,” I replied.
“I feel like I have let you down,” She said.
“You have not let me down,” I replied. “I enjoy our time together, but it is more important to me to know that you are okay. I was just worried about you when I called earlier and hadn’t heard anything from you all day. I wasn’t trying to pressure you to go out or anything.”
“I just didn’t feel like going out tonight,” She replied. “I am just so sleepy. I don’t feel like getting out of the house.”
A common side affect of zyprexa for schizophrenia is extreme drowsiness.
“Mom, I am just glad that I have one parent who understands what I go through,” I replied. “I understand what you go through as well.”
“I love you,” She said. “You are the only one of my children who calls me and who knows how hard it can be.”
“I love you too,” I replied. “You go back to sleep.”
“We will go to the White House next week and get some fried shrimp,” She said.
“Anything you want to do sounds fine with me,” I replied.
We both said our goodbyes and hung up the phone.
It is funny now that I am a grown man how much our relationship has changed. I never got along with this woman when I was a child and young adult. We constantly bickered and argued almost as if we were siblings. We were always at odds. Our mutual experience with schizophrenia has brought a deep understanding to our relationship and a common bond. We have become so close and supportive since my homeless days as a family outcast.
As with what happens to me, I see my mother deeply struggle some weeks and other weeks she seems to be fine. This week was one of those weeks where she has had a hard time. I refrain from judgment as I understand and I cherish those moments when she can be the mother I never had as a child.
Maybe next week, if I am patient, things will be back to normal. As with myself, hard times come and go and I also need weeks with quiet solitude and isolation. I do understand and sometimes that makes it all the harder to bear. You never wish such things upon your closest of relatives and only want the best for them.
Good night mom and sleep well. Know that a son loves you very much and truly understands what you are going through.
“Mom?” I asked as she answered the phone. “Are you okay?”
She sounded as if she had been in the deepest of sleeps and almost as if she didn’t recognize me.
“I am fine,” She said as she slurred her words.
“Did you forget about our dinner date?” I asked.
“What about dinner?” She asked.
“Don’t you worry about it and go back to sleep,” I replied.
We both hung up. I was just glad she was okay.
Many hours later the phone rang and I waited for my answering machine to answer. It was mom and I picked up the phone.
“Listen, I am so sorry about today,” She said. “I was just feeling so tired today and forgot about tonight. You are not out done with me, are you?”
“Mom, don’t you fret about that,” I replied.
“I feel like I have let you down,” She said.
“You have not let me down,” I replied. “I enjoy our time together, but it is more important to me to know that you are okay. I was just worried about you when I called earlier and hadn’t heard anything from you all day. I wasn’t trying to pressure you to go out or anything.”
“I just didn’t feel like going out tonight,” She replied. “I am just so sleepy. I don’t feel like getting out of the house.”
A common side affect of zyprexa for schizophrenia is extreme drowsiness.
“Mom, I am just glad that I have one parent who understands what I go through,” I replied. “I understand what you go through as well.”
“I love you,” She said. “You are the only one of my children who calls me and who knows how hard it can be.”
“I love you too,” I replied. “You go back to sleep.”
“We will go to the White House next week and get some fried shrimp,” She said.
“Anything you want to do sounds fine with me,” I replied.
We both said our goodbyes and hung up the phone.
It is funny now that I am a grown man how much our relationship has changed. I never got along with this woman when I was a child and young adult. We constantly bickered and argued almost as if we were siblings. We were always at odds. Our mutual experience with schizophrenia has brought a deep understanding to our relationship and a common bond. We have become so close and supportive since my homeless days as a family outcast.
As with what happens to me, I see my mother deeply struggle some weeks and other weeks she seems to be fine. This week was one of those weeks where she has had a hard time. I refrain from judgment as I understand and I cherish those moments when she can be the mother I never had as a child.
Maybe next week, if I am patient, things will be back to normal. As with myself, hard times come and go and I also need weeks with quiet solitude and isolation. I do understand and sometimes that makes it all the harder to bear. You never wish such things upon your closest of relatives and only want the best for them.
Good night mom and sleep well. Know that a son loves you very much and truly understands what you are going through.
Eight Years of a Life
I just finished reading the complete The Panther’s Tale. It has taken weeks and was no small endeavor. The Panther’s Tale is a journal written by a voluntarily homeless man in Honolulu, Hawaii. He has been keeping this journal going on nine years now. He wrote with such honesty and candidness that it was compelling reading. You actually got to find out what life really is like on the streets of Honolulu. Only one other homeless blog did this and it was Michael Hussey’s Last Day of my Life and he only writes about politics these days.
Albert’s tales involved things that “The Homeless Guy” would never write about as they would have scared off donators and readers. He wrote of the drug use on the streets which he also partake in from time to time. He wrote of the young homeless boys who stole from shops and pawned their takings to get money for drugs. He wrote candidly about the sexual lives of those on the streets as well. He ate discarded food, rummaged through ashtrays to get cigarette butts for smoking, and slept outside in the park for years. It was a much more realistic take on homelessness that what I have read on other homeless blogs save a few.
What a far cry from “The Homeless Guy!” I still firmly believe that “The Homeless Guy” was just a carefully crafted experiment in pro-homeless propaganda and cyber-panhandling to only benefit the author. Kevin would talk about crazy things such as how important Religion was to homeless people and that was just not truthful and was written to appeal to the sensitivities of the many religious people reading his blog. In other words, be Christian and give me some of your good fortune. When the donations quit coming in and he had milked that cow for all it was worth, he quit writing on a regular basis and the blog withered and died. A lot of nice and generous people got duped by him. A Mr. Cheng once gave him a thousand dollars in one day and he bad mouthed the poor fellow publicly on his blog and then spent Cheng’s money on cheap hotel rooms and fast food. How Christian is that? I am just glad that his blog no longer gets much readership and people are no longer being misled by his ideas and writings. “The Homeless Guy” would have made a fine if somewhat dullard politician in the way he was able to take people’s money and obfuscate the realities of homelessness.
I know I don’t write a lot about my homeless period these days. It seems like such a distant memory now. From what I have read though on many homeless blogs, my experience now would be completely different. I have learned through the wisdom of other authors about how to make homelessness much more comfortable and doable. Sometimes the thought is even appealing with what I know now. I have had many fantasies this week of buying a four hundred dollar plane ticket and flying to Honolulu to live in homeless paradise. Don’t worry. Those are just fantasies that help quell my constant wanderlust. I am content to experience it through the writing of others. My experiences with homelessness still do make me passionate about the subject.
Albert’s tales involved things that “The Homeless Guy” would never write about as they would have scared off donators and readers. He wrote of the drug use on the streets which he also partake in from time to time. He wrote of the young homeless boys who stole from shops and pawned their takings to get money for drugs. He wrote candidly about the sexual lives of those on the streets as well. He ate discarded food, rummaged through ashtrays to get cigarette butts for smoking, and slept outside in the park for years. It was a much more realistic take on homelessness that what I have read on other homeless blogs save a few.
What a far cry from “The Homeless Guy!” I still firmly believe that “The Homeless Guy” was just a carefully crafted experiment in pro-homeless propaganda and cyber-panhandling to only benefit the author. Kevin would talk about crazy things such as how important Religion was to homeless people and that was just not truthful and was written to appeal to the sensitivities of the many religious people reading his blog. In other words, be Christian and give me some of your good fortune. When the donations quit coming in and he had milked that cow for all it was worth, he quit writing on a regular basis and the blog withered and died. A lot of nice and generous people got duped by him. A Mr. Cheng once gave him a thousand dollars in one day and he bad mouthed the poor fellow publicly on his blog and then spent Cheng’s money on cheap hotel rooms and fast food. How Christian is that? I am just glad that his blog no longer gets much readership and people are no longer being misled by his ideas and writings. “The Homeless Guy” would have made a fine if somewhat dullard politician in the way he was able to take people’s money and obfuscate the realities of homelessness.
I know I don’t write a lot about my homeless period these days. It seems like such a distant memory now. From what I have read though on many homeless blogs, my experience now would be completely different. I have learned through the wisdom of other authors about how to make homelessness much more comfortable and doable. Sometimes the thought is even appealing with what I know now. I have had many fantasies this week of buying a four hundred dollar plane ticket and flying to Honolulu to live in homeless paradise. Don’t worry. Those are just fantasies that help quell my constant wanderlust. I am content to experience it through the writing of others. My experiences with homelessness still do make me passionate about the subject.
Small Town Drama
There was a very loud knock on my door this morning. I was at my computer catching up with my daily reads. It made me jump it was so loud. I walked to the door and there was this very, very grubby fellow standing outside with a large work truck in my driveway.
“Were here to put in your new fence,” He said with an extremely heavy southern drawl and a cigarette dangling from his mouth.
“I don’t know anything about a new fence,” I said perplexed.
“Well, don’t that bald fellow live here?” The grubby fellow asked.
I laughed when I caught on.
“Ah, Charlie,” I said. “He is buying this house.
Just then Charlie pulled up in the driveway behind the work truck.
“That’s him now,” I said pointing to his car.
Uncle Bob and Aunt Jessie bought one of Charlie’s fixer-upper houses years ago. Charlie had a large Siberian husky and just kept it Uncle Bob’s house due to Bob’s insistence. The dog is named Lucky and must be twelve or thirteen years old now.
Well, Uncle Bob complained to Charlie that Lucky has been harassing his goats since they are kept in the same fence. Lucky is so old he can barely walk and usually just sleeps all day. This royally pissed Charlie off in that he now has to go to the expense of building a new fence over at my house to house Lucky.
“That crazy asshole!” Charlie said to me. “Lucky is too old to be harassing goats and the goddamn goats are illegal inside the city limits anyway.”
“Charlie, Bob is just a crazy old cantankerous man,” I replied.
“Well, I will be damned if I do anything else for him,” Charlie said. “I am gonna do like you and not answer the phone when that asshole calls.”
I chuckled.
“If you don’t answer, he will drive over and get you,” I replied.
“I will tell that son of a bitch to go to hell,” Charlie said.
I haven’t seen Charlie this worked up in years even though he does tend to be a high-strung fellow.
Well, it seems my quiet little abode will be not so quiet this week as those workmen erect a chain link fence. It will be nice to have Lucky as a companion though.
“Were here to put in your new fence,” He said with an extremely heavy southern drawl and a cigarette dangling from his mouth.
“I don’t know anything about a new fence,” I said perplexed.
“Well, don’t that bald fellow live here?” The grubby fellow asked.
I laughed when I caught on.
“Ah, Charlie,” I said. “He is buying this house.
Just then Charlie pulled up in the driveway behind the work truck.
“That’s him now,” I said pointing to his car.
Uncle Bob and Aunt Jessie bought one of Charlie’s fixer-upper houses years ago. Charlie had a large Siberian husky and just kept it Uncle Bob’s house due to Bob’s insistence. The dog is named Lucky and must be twelve or thirteen years old now.
Well, Uncle Bob complained to Charlie that Lucky has been harassing his goats since they are kept in the same fence. Lucky is so old he can barely walk and usually just sleeps all day. This royally pissed Charlie off in that he now has to go to the expense of building a new fence over at my house to house Lucky.
“That crazy asshole!” Charlie said to me. “Lucky is too old to be harassing goats and the goddamn goats are illegal inside the city limits anyway.”
“Charlie, Bob is just a crazy old cantankerous man,” I replied.
“Well, I will be damned if I do anything else for him,” Charlie said. “I am gonna do like you and not answer the phone when that asshole calls.”
I chuckled.
“If you don’t answer, he will drive over and get you,” I replied.
“I will tell that son of a bitch to go to hell,” Charlie said.
I haven’t seen Charlie this worked up in years even though he does tend to be a high-strung fellow.
Well, it seems my quiet little abode will be not so quiet this week as those workmen erect a chain link fence. It will be nice to have Lucky as a companion though.
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Comforts of Many Kinds
Last night, after work, I decided I just had to get away. The phone had rung all day until at one point I just unplugged the thing. It had driven me crazy. The person or persons trying to reach me would never leave a message. I had feared it was Uncle Bob wanting me to do something for him. I was just not in the mood to get caught in that tangled web of experiences that would be dealing with Uncle Bob.
One of the most aggravating aspects of my camping journeys is setting up my tent every time. It sometimes takes a good thirty minutes to erect the damn thing and is hard to do by only one person. (That is what I get for buying a cheap “throw-away” tent from Wal-Mart) Well, on my last camping trip, in a fit of laziness, I just left the damn thing in the woods and staked it down really well in case any bad weather arrived so it wouldn’t get blown away.
Once I got off work, I immediately loaded up my car with what I needed and headed for the country. It was already dark when I arrived and luckily, my tent was as I had left it. It would have been nigh impossible to set it up in the dark. I had gambled by leaving it erected and the gamble had paid off. I would never leave my expensive Kelty tent set up like that unattended.
Earlier in the day, I had split some of the oak “logs” stored under my basement into much smaller and easier to handle pieces so had plenty of dry and long burning wood. I carefully stacked those pieces to make a fire within a ring of large stones placed from my last camping trip. I then rummaged around in my big Kelty backpack with my flashlight and finally found those fire starting sticks I had bought several years ago and have never used. I finally got a fire going and it helped chase away the chill of the early evening. After a very warm day, Mother Nature had decided to precipitously drop the temperatures after sunset.
I sat cross-legged next to the fire as I started reading Joseph Conrad’s Lord Jim. Occasionally, I would place the book down on the ground next to me to enjoy my pipe and to take a stiff drink of Southern Comfort all the while mesmerized by the flickering glow of that fire. I must have read half of that book until I looked at my watch and saw it was well after midnight. I had gotten so lost in the comforts of moment that I had lost all sense of time. What a pleasurable way to pass an evening after such a horrendous day. I was also quite pleasantly buzzed by the effects of that liquor.
I had decided I had best get some sleep or I would sleep away my day tomorrow. I pulled my backpack into my tent and rolled out my sleeping bag. I have gotten in the habit of bringing my soft pillows from my bed to sleep with and was glad I had done so. It makes for much more luxurious sleeping arrangements while in the wild. I could never do this without my car.
I climbed into my bag and zipped up the mesh net to the door of my tent. The woods were spookily silent last night with the only sound being that of the wind in the trees. Not an animal or nocturnal bird was to be heard. A thousand stars twinkled in the sky beyond the mesh portal of my tent. I felt so alone laying there in the darkness it was almost disconcerting. I never feel that way when camping. I finally drifted off to sleep as a lone whip-o-will began his call; such a haunting, but strangely comforting sound. Haunting dreams followed as well.
One of the most aggravating aspects of my camping journeys is setting up my tent every time. It sometimes takes a good thirty minutes to erect the damn thing and is hard to do by only one person. (That is what I get for buying a cheap “throw-away” tent from Wal-Mart) Well, on my last camping trip, in a fit of laziness, I just left the damn thing in the woods and staked it down really well in case any bad weather arrived so it wouldn’t get blown away.
Once I got off work, I immediately loaded up my car with what I needed and headed for the country. It was already dark when I arrived and luckily, my tent was as I had left it. It would have been nigh impossible to set it up in the dark. I had gambled by leaving it erected and the gamble had paid off. I would never leave my expensive Kelty tent set up like that unattended.
Earlier in the day, I had split some of the oak “logs” stored under my basement into much smaller and easier to handle pieces so had plenty of dry and long burning wood. I carefully stacked those pieces to make a fire within a ring of large stones placed from my last camping trip. I then rummaged around in my big Kelty backpack with my flashlight and finally found those fire starting sticks I had bought several years ago and have never used. I finally got a fire going and it helped chase away the chill of the early evening. After a very warm day, Mother Nature had decided to precipitously drop the temperatures after sunset.
I sat cross-legged next to the fire as I started reading Joseph Conrad’s Lord Jim. Occasionally, I would place the book down on the ground next to me to enjoy my pipe and to take a stiff drink of Southern Comfort all the while mesmerized by the flickering glow of that fire. I must have read half of that book until I looked at my watch and saw it was well after midnight. I had gotten so lost in the comforts of moment that I had lost all sense of time. What a pleasurable way to pass an evening after such a horrendous day. I was also quite pleasantly buzzed by the effects of that liquor.
I had decided I had best get some sleep or I would sleep away my day tomorrow. I pulled my backpack into my tent and rolled out my sleeping bag. I have gotten in the habit of bringing my soft pillows from my bed to sleep with and was glad I had done so. It makes for much more luxurious sleeping arrangements while in the wild. I could never do this without my car.
I climbed into my bag and zipped up the mesh net to the door of my tent. The woods were spookily silent last night with the only sound being that of the wind in the trees. Not an animal or nocturnal bird was to be heard. A thousand stars twinkled in the sky beyond the mesh portal of my tent. I felt so alone laying there in the darkness it was almost disconcerting. I never feel that way when camping. I finally drifted off to sleep as a lone whip-o-will began his call; such a haunting, but strangely comforting sound. Haunting dreams followed as well.
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Ramblings on Religion
My apologies to any of you religious folks but these are my thoughts on the matter. It felt good putting them down.
My mother was Catholic. My father was Baptist. Neither were very ardent followers of either faith. When I was a child, we went to church as a family because it was socially expected and acceptable. My father ruled out and we always went to a local Baptist church. It didn’t last for long.
As I and my siblings grew older, the Sunday ritual of church waned. We no longer went as each of our lives grew ever more busy and complicated. My parent’s weren’t very good role models when it came to religion. Their lackluster faith was contagious with us young ‘uns. My father always taught us to question everything and to have a mind of our own. I took on his train of thought with a fervent passion during my first years of college. I questioned everything including religion.
When I was a child I was very aware of that so called “God”. I had an affinity for explicatives and would say them often. Every time I would utter those supposedly profane words, I would worry that I would soon be smitten by an all knowing and omnipotent creator. What a terrible burden for a child to carry! Those words had no meaning or understanding to the original writers of the Bible. A four letter word such as fuck would be meaningless to those who spoke Aramaic. I still carried that guilt for years knowing that I was a “sinner” until I grew older and wiser.
I read the bible once through during my teen years. My father’s teachings on questioning everything made me have such thoughts as, “Why would god have to rest during the creation?” Other thoughts on all the laws in Levitucus also mystified me. They had no bearing on the modern world. How would a neighbor’s goat falling into my well and the biblical laws that govern such matters have any relevance to me? It all seemed so silly.
It is so comforting to me now, as a grown man, that I am not saddled with such archaic beliefs. I know I have been given one life and one life only and I intend to live it to its fullest. It is also comforting to know that one day I will cease to exist. Die as they say. Forever gone; none of that nonsense of after-lives, heavens, and hells. My candle will have burned to the end and I will no longer dwell in this world. I will be bereaved of all the burdens that this life placed upon me.
My mother was Catholic. My father was Baptist. Neither were very ardent followers of either faith. When I was a child, we went to church as a family because it was socially expected and acceptable. My father ruled out and we always went to a local Baptist church. It didn’t last for long.
As I and my siblings grew older, the Sunday ritual of church waned. We no longer went as each of our lives grew ever more busy and complicated. My parent’s weren’t very good role models when it came to religion. Their lackluster faith was contagious with us young ‘uns. My father always taught us to question everything and to have a mind of our own. I took on his train of thought with a fervent passion during my first years of college. I questioned everything including religion.
When I was a child I was very aware of that so called “God”. I had an affinity for explicatives and would say them often. Every time I would utter those supposedly profane words, I would worry that I would soon be smitten by an all knowing and omnipotent creator. What a terrible burden for a child to carry! Those words had no meaning or understanding to the original writers of the Bible. A four letter word such as fuck would be meaningless to those who spoke Aramaic. I still carried that guilt for years knowing that I was a “sinner” until I grew older and wiser.
I read the bible once through during my teen years. My father’s teachings on questioning everything made me have such thoughts as, “Why would god have to rest during the creation?” Other thoughts on all the laws in Levitucus also mystified me. They had no bearing on the modern world. How would a neighbor’s goat falling into my well and the biblical laws that govern such matters have any relevance to me? It all seemed so silly.
It is so comforting to me now, as a grown man, that I am not saddled with such archaic beliefs. I know I have been given one life and one life only and I intend to live it to its fullest. It is also comforting to know that one day I will cease to exist. Die as they say. Forever gone; none of that nonsense of after-lives, heavens, and hells. My candle will have burned to the end and I will no longer dwell in this world. I will be bereaved of all the burdens that this life placed upon me.
Monday, October 10, 2005
Update on Lunch Date Saga
On the upside: We had a good time and got to know each other better. Carolyn is also ten years my senior. I have never been out with an older woman before. Many of the dreaded questions I was expecting never came up. I think I handled the social aspects much better than I thought I would. She asked me if I would like to go to the movies this weekend. I accepted. She said it would be her treat.
On the downside: I am exhausted from that delicate social dance. It is also so expensive to take someone out for lunch and drinks. It is going to be another very lean week unless I get a lot of hours at work this week. I completely screwed my budget. Frankly, I cannot afford to date someone in the traditional sense nor am I willing or capable to work full time to do so. The crazy thing is that she thinks I must have money in that I have a nice car and nice clothes. I only have those things due to the insistence of my very wealthy parents. Life is never simple.
Well, off to work I go to see if I can make up some of the shortfall I made today in my budget. At least I get to work two hours tonight doing deliveries. That will be twenty bucks. I need it!
On the downside: I am exhausted from that delicate social dance. It is also so expensive to take someone out for lunch and drinks. It is going to be another very lean week unless I get a lot of hours at work this week. I completely screwed my budget. Frankly, I cannot afford to date someone in the traditional sense nor am I willing or capable to work full time to do so. The crazy thing is that she thinks I must have money in that I have a nice car and nice clothes. I only have those things due to the insistence of my very wealthy parents. Life is never simple.
Well, off to work I go to see if I can make up some of the shortfall I made today in my budget. At least I get to work two hours tonight doing deliveries. That will be twenty bucks. I need it!
Sunday, October 09, 2005
A Holy Shit Moment
I was sitting here reading my computer screen. Somehow, I blinked the wrong way and my vision went all blurry in my right eye. I blinked a few more times and then I realized my contact was gone. I paid almost $300 dollars for those things and panicked. “Son of a bitch,” I cried. I think my heart skipped a beat.
I got down with my face to the floor with a flash light and tried to find the errant contact. I was hoping I could see its irregular contour against the floor and the carpet. I couldn’t find it. I sat up disgusted almost ready to cry; so much money down the drain. I could eat for a month on what I paid for those things.
I walked into the bathroom to take the remaining contact off and to put on my glasses. My right eye was still feeling uncomfortable so I looked in mirror closely to check it out. There was that contact in the corner of my eye! Never have I been so relieved. “Thank ye gods!!!” I cried aloud.
I got down with my face to the floor with a flash light and tried to find the errant contact. I was hoping I could see its irregular contour against the floor and the carpet. I couldn’t find it. I sat up disgusted almost ready to cry; so much money down the drain. I could eat for a month on what I paid for those things.
I walked into the bathroom to take the remaining contact off and to put on my glasses. My right eye was still feeling uncomfortable so I looked in mirror closely to check it out. There was that contact in the corner of my eye! Never have I been so relieved. “Thank ye gods!!!” I cried aloud.
Crime Wave at the Shopping Center
At one point yesterday, I scrounged up some pocket change and walked down to the Piggly Wiggly to buy chocolate milk and some crackers. I didn’t see George or any of the gang except Cap w/Tag Guy. Cap w/Tag was, as usual, standing between the Pig and the dollar store selling his usual wares. He held out his hand for me to shake it as I walked by. He never says a word and communicates via body language. Usually a head nod means hello. At first, I thought he was mute, but have since heard him talk over the years. He never gets involved in the politics or gossiping that goes on down at the Pig. That must be why he is such a successful crack dealer. Stay low. Stay quiet. Don’t draw attention.
As I was standing in line to purchase my chocolate milk and crackers, this huge commotion erupted in the line next to me. A black lady started screaming and hollering and the manager came rushing out from office. Apparently, one black lady tried to swipe another black lady’s purse. The manager grabbed her shirt and accidentally ripped it off to keep her from running away with the purse. She wasn’t wearing a bra so she was naked from the waist up. It was not a pretty sight let me tell you. She had some of the saggiest and droopiest breasts I have ever seen. During the commotion, they were flying around wildly like dangerous clubs. The manager finally grabbed hold of the purse and ripped it away tearing off the handle. The assailant went running out the door and down the sidewalk shirtless and naked to the world.
By this time, a large group of black women had gathered around to gawk. Several older black women were berating the manager for tearing off the girl’s shirt. The manager was white and many comments were being made about how a white man shouldn’t treat a black woman that way. The manager was just trying to get the lady’s purse back. Human stupidity never ceases to amaze me as the group was trying to turn this into a heated racial matter and not the simple matter of a stolen purse. I thought the manager had acted gallantly. He could have just taken the easy way out, called the police, and let the young lady take the purse.
As I was standing in line to purchase my chocolate milk and crackers, this huge commotion erupted in the line next to me. A black lady started screaming and hollering and the manager came rushing out from office. Apparently, one black lady tried to swipe another black lady’s purse. The manager grabbed her shirt and accidentally ripped it off to keep her from running away with the purse. She wasn’t wearing a bra so she was naked from the waist up. It was not a pretty sight let me tell you. She had some of the saggiest and droopiest breasts I have ever seen. During the commotion, they were flying around wildly like dangerous clubs. The manager finally grabbed hold of the purse and ripped it away tearing off the handle. The assailant went running out the door and down the sidewalk shirtless and naked to the world.
By this time, a large group of black women had gathered around to gawk. Several older black women were berating the manager for tearing off the girl’s shirt. The manager was white and many comments were being made about how a white man shouldn’t treat a black woman that way. The manager was just trying to get the lady’s purse back. Human stupidity never ceases to amaze me as the group was trying to turn this into a heated racial matter and not the simple matter of a stolen purse. I thought the manager had acted gallantly. He could have just taken the easy way out, called the police, and let the young lady take the purse.
The Call of the Wild
Before I get to writing about last night’s camping adventure, I will fill you all in on the continuing lunch date saga. I really appreciated all the comments and after all, as many said, “It is just lunch.” I drove down to Fat Albert’s for a coffee and sweet roll yesterday morning. Carolyn was there. I asked her if you still wanted to go get lunch and she said she would be delighted. I told her that I got “paid” on Monday and we would ride down to Auburn and have drinks and lunch at one of those firm bars (Applebee’s, Chili’s, etc.). She seemed very excited. I was very, very nervous. It will be interesting to see how this unfolds. I haven’t been out on a “date” in over a year I think. I haven’t even been looking for that long as well. I was pretty content living the single bachelor life. It certainly will prove interesting as I can be pretty socially inept most of the time.
Yes, it is time for another of my boring camping posts. I just wish I could express in words how much these moments mean to me. I will try. For me, camping is a time of renewal and a time to regroup. I suffer a lot of social anxiety here at home and when I get into the woods that anxiety disappears. I know no one can reach me or bother me. I am completely alone. I am miles away from the nearest person and it is comforting. No ringing phones. No noisy computers. No televisions. No popular culture. No conventions of society. Nothing but just me, my gear, mother nature, and a good book Only then can I truly relax.
Last night was a pleasant evening. It was kind of chilly and overcast, but nothing that my fleece jacket and sweat pants couldn’t overcome. I drove out towards Waverly in the countryside and set up camp. The dirt roads were very muddy from all that rain from tropical storm Tammy and my all-wheel-drive on my little SUV kicked in several times.
After setting up camp, I was smart enough to bring a large bundle of split oak that I had stored under my basement. Everything out in the woods was too wet to light. Within moments, I got a nice fire going as the sun set.
Next, it was time to get some supper started. I had fixed ahead at home one of my all time favorite camping treats, hoboes. A hobo is a large beef patty smothered with potatoes, carrots, onions, ketchup, and mustard. You place all of this upon extra heavy duty aluminum foil and wrap it up to make a packet. You then place that packet in the coals of your fire and then let it cook for hour to an hour and a half until the vegetables get tender and the ingredients make a tangy sauce.
After I ate supper and cleaned up, I donned my little radio’s headphones and listened in. As the sun sets and as the weather grows cooler, you can start to pick up some pretty far flung stations on the AM dial. I could pick up KMOX out of St. Louis, a station in Chicago, and that station out of New Orleans. It was interesting to notice how much colder it was in St. Louis and Chicago. They are definitely getting a taste of fall. Nothing much interesting is being broadcast on the weekends so I didn’t listen for long and put my little Sony radio away. I pulled out a book and began to read by the fire with my LED headlamp.
At one point, as I was reading, I kept hearing a rustling in the undergrowth nearby. It kept getting closer and closer. My heart rate increased and I grew completely silent and motionless. It was pitch black around me with only the flickering light of fire lighting up my immediate surroundings. During these times your imagination can run wild. In a flash, a large armadillo came running through my camp and scared the living daylights out of me. Usually a large fire will dissuade any animals from coming nearby. The little bugger must have been really hungry to take such a daring jaunt through my camp at night. I cursed to myself and got back to reading.
After reading for a long time, it started to mist lightly so I climbed in my tent, got undressed, and clamored into my sleeping back. I could only read a few more paragraphs before my eyelids grew so heavy I could no longer stay awake. I drifted off to sleep and some very vivid dreams greeted me. I woke up several times in pivotal moments in my dreams and had a hard time going back to sleep. Dawn finally arrived and I packed up and headed home. I feel renewed and refreshed this morning after a long, hot shower and many cups of coffee. What a great start to what I hope will be a great day.
Yes, it is time for another of my boring camping posts. I just wish I could express in words how much these moments mean to me. I will try. For me, camping is a time of renewal and a time to regroup. I suffer a lot of social anxiety here at home and when I get into the woods that anxiety disappears. I know no one can reach me or bother me. I am completely alone. I am miles away from the nearest person and it is comforting. No ringing phones. No noisy computers. No televisions. No popular culture. No conventions of society. Nothing but just me, my gear, mother nature, and a good book Only then can I truly relax.
Last night was a pleasant evening. It was kind of chilly and overcast, but nothing that my fleece jacket and sweat pants couldn’t overcome. I drove out towards Waverly in the countryside and set up camp. The dirt roads were very muddy from all that rain from tropical storm Tammy and my all-wheel-drive on my little SUV kicked in several times.
After setting up camp, I was smart enough to bring a large bundle of split oak that I had stored under my basement. Everything out in the woods was too wet to light. Within moments, I got a nice fire going as the sun set.
Next, it was time to get some supper started. I had fixed ahead at home one of my all time favorite camping treats, hoboes. A hobo is a large beef patty smothered with potatoes, carrots, onions, ketchup, and mustard. You place all of this upon extra heavy duty aluminum foil and wrap it up to make a packet. You then place that packet in the coals of your fire and then let it cook for hour to an hour and a half until the vegetables get tender and the ingredients make a tangy sauce.
After I ate supper and cleaned up, I donned my little radio’s headphones and listened in. As the sun sets and as the weather grows cooler, you can start to pick up some pretty far flung stations on the AM dial. I could pick up KMOX out of St. Louis, a station in Chicago, and that station out of New Orleans. It was interesting to notice how much colder it was in St. Louis and Chicago. They are definitely getting a taste of fall. Nothing much interesting is being broadcast on the weekends so I didn’t listen for long and put my little Sony radio away. I pulled out a book and began to read by the fire with my LED headlamp.
At one point, as I was reading, I kept hearing a rustling in the undergrowth nearby. It kept getting closer and closer. My heart rate increased and I grew completely silent and motionless. It was pitch black around me with only the flickering light of fire lighting up my immediate surroundings. During these times your imagination can run wild. In a flash, a large armadillo came running through my camp and scared the living daylights out of me. Usually a large fire will dissuade any animals from coming nearby. The little bugger must have been really hungry to take such a daring jaunt through my camp at night. I cursed to myself and got back to reading.
After reading for a long time, it started to mist lightly so I climbed in my tent, got undressed, and clamored into my sleeping back. I could only read a few more paragraphs before my eyelids grew so heavy I could no longer stay awake. I drifted off to sleep and some very vivid dreams greeted me. I woke up several times in pivotal moments in my dreams and had a hard time going back to sleep. Dawn finally arrived and I packed up and headed home. I feel renewed and refreshed this morning after a long, hot shower and many cups of coffee. What a great start to what I hope will be a great day.
Saturday, October 08, 2005
Strike While the Iron is Hot
Those are the words from that good bloke Plark. They struck a chord within me. All of the other comments were very welcome and helpful as well on yesterday’s post. I decided to strike while the iron is hot so to speak.
I drove down this morning to Fat Albert’s to get a cup of coffee and a sweet roll and Carolyn was there. I told her that Monday I would get “paid” and asked her if she still wanted to go out for lunch. She was ecstatic and accepted. She gets off at 1 PM. I told her we would drive down to Auburn and go to one of those firm bars (Chili’s, Applebee’s, etc.) for some drinks and lunch. I feel as if I am exploring an undiscovered country for the first time it has been so long since I have been out on a “date”. I can be kind of old fashioned about such things and wanted to pay.
I was thinking this morning that out of the past ten years, I am as stable as I have ever been as far as my mental illness goes. So why not try something new and exciting? I no longer talk to myself in a crazy way. I no longer have those vivid hallucinations or delusions. My life is only occasionally racked with paranoia. Not that constant paranoia like I used to experience as if being watched and followed constantly. My only big problem now is my social aloofness and the extreme anxiety that occurs in social situations and I think that is largely due to that I am just out of practice.
The way I have learned to deal with that last symptom is to isolate myself. On a week such as this, I can go for days without any real or meaningful social contact other than through carefully controlled interactions on the internet. On this blog you get to read about the interesting ten percent of my life. The other ninety percent never gets written about; that ninety percent is spent with me usually alone, quiet, and most likely just reading. I have been on a real big reading kick lately and can read for hours on end.
Anyways, here’s to those undiscovered countries out there just waiting to be explored. I will follow in the footsteps of those great explorers such as England’s Cook and Spain’s De Soto this upcoming week. I will step out of my own little carefully controlled world and try something frightening and different; those first few steps back into the land were social creatures dwell; an unexplored country for me, indeed.
I drove down this morning to Fat Albert’s to get a cup of coffee and a sweet roll and Carolyn was there. I told her that Monday I would get “paid” and asked her if she still wanted to go out for lunch. She was ecstatic and accepted. She gets off at 1 PM. I told her we would drive down to Auburn and go to one of those firm bars (Chili’s, Applebee’s, etc.) for some drinks and lunch. I feel as if I am exploring an undiscovered country for the first time it has been so long since I have been out on a “date”. I can be kind of old fashioned about such things and wanted to pay.
I was thinking this morning that out of the past ten years, I am as stable as I have ever been as far as my mental illness goes. So why not try something new and exciting? I no longer talk to myself in a crazy way. I no longer have those vivid hallucinations or delusions. My life is only occasionally racked with paranoia. Not that constant paranoia like I used to experience as if being watched and followed constantly. My only big problem now is my social aloofness and the extreme anxiety that occurs in social situations and I think that is largely due to that I am just out of practice.
The way I have learned to deal with that last symptom is to isolate myself. On a week such as this, I can go for days without any real or meaningful social contact other than through carefully controlled interactions on the internet. On this blog you get to read about the interesting ten percent of my life. The other ninety percent never gets written about; that ninety percent is spent with me usually alone, quiet, and most likely just reading. I have been on a real big reading kick lately and can read for hours on end.
Anyways, here’s to those undiscovered countries out there just waiting to be explored. I will follow in the footsteps of those great explorers such as England’s Cook and Spain’s De Soto this upcoming week. I will step out of my own little carefully controlled world and try something frightening and different; those first few steps back into the land were social creatures dwell; an unexplored country for me, indeed.
Friday, October 07, 2005
Rendezvous at a Convenience Store
Oh, what women in my life! I don’t know what has been going on lately, but I am being bombarded by flirty vibes from several women I encounter often. Yesterday, it was my nurse and today it was Carolyn, the convenience store clerk. Carolyn is an older woman, but is quite attractive. We have gotten to be on a first name basis since I frequent Fat Albert’s convenience store so much these days
This morning I awoke around 5 am and started my day with my usual coffee. I also fixed some toast and ate it with butter and strawberry preserves. After breakfast, I decided to ride down to the convenience store and put in $10 dollars worth of gas. It was still pitch black outside when I started this journey.
“Hey Carolyn,” I said as I walked in the door after pumping the gas.
“Hey hun,” she replied.
“How are you?” I asked.
“I am much better now that I got to see you,” She said with a hearty smile.
I paid and stepped aside to let the patron behind me buy her lottery tickets. The lady bought a bunch of scratch-off tickets and immediately began to use a penny to scratch off to see if Dame Fortune’s wind was blowing her way. It reminded me of a crack addict who was jonesing for their fix.
“Are you working today?” Carolyn asked. “You never come in this early.”
“No, I had the whole week off and it has been nice,” I replied. “But the money has been tight,”
“I get off at lunch,” She said. “Would you like to go get something to eat together?”
I blushed.
“Carolyn, thanks for the invite, but I am flat broke after putting that $10 dollars in,” I replied.
“It will be on me,” She said. “I really want to get to know you better.”
“I would rather pay my own way,” I replied and politely declined.
“Maybe next week then,” She said.
“Yeah, maybe next week,” I replied.
I walked out of the store and got in my car pondering what had just happened. It had been a long time since a woman came onto me so strongly. I am really not sure if I want to get involved with someone again. I believe in being honest about my mental illness and that usually sends them running anyway. Oh well, it was certainly flattering to know that someone thought that I was desirable and attractive and wants to get to know me better.
This morning I awoke around 5 am and started my day with my usual coffee. I also fixed some toast and ate it with butter and strawberry preserves. After breakfast, I decided to ride down to the convenience store and put in $10 dollars worth of gas. It was still pitch black outside when I started this journey.
“Hey Carolyn,” I said as I walked in the door after pumping the gas.
“Hey hun,” she replied.
“How are you?” I asked.
“I am much better now that I got to see you,” She said with a hearty smile.
I paid and stepped aside to let the patron behind me buy her lottery tickets. The lady bought a bunch of scratch-off tickets and immediately began to use a penny to scratch off to see if Dame Fortune’s wind was blowing her way. It reminded me of a crack addict who was jonesing for their fix.
“Are you working today?” Carolyn asked. “You never come in this early.”
“No, I had the whole week off and it has been nice,” I replied. “But the money has been tight,”
“I get off at lunch,” She said. “Would you like to go get something to eat together?”
I blushed.
“Carolyn, thanks for the invite, but I am flat broke after putting that $10 dollars in,” I replied.
“It will be on me,” She said. “I really want to get to know you better.”
“I would rather pay my own way,” I replied and politely declined.
“Maybe next week then,” She said.
“Yeah, maybe next week,” I replied.
I walked out of the store and got in my car pondering what had just happened. It had been a long time since a woman came onto me so strongly. I am really not sure if I want to get involved with someone again. I believe in being honest about my mental illness and that usually sends them running anyway. Oh well, it was certainly flattering to know that someone thought that I was desirable and attractive and wants to get to know me better.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Tammy, We Greet Thee
It rained steadily all last night and was quite cool. I slept with my windows open and slept fitfully. We have tropical storm Tammy as our guest the next few days with a sixty percent chance of rain today.
This morning I had to get my injection of Risperdal. I crossed my fingers that what little gas I had left would get me down to the valley and back. My low fuel warning light is on and I think that means I have thirty miles of driving before it runs out.
As I arrived at my father’s pharmacy to pick up the shot, cars and trucks were everywhere and the store had only been open for a few minutes. “What in the Hell?” I muttered aloud as pulled in. There was no place to park and what seemed like hundreds of elderly people filled the drug store.
I finally found a parking space behind the hardware store next door and walked in the rain to the pharmacy. I almost couldn’t get in the door so many people where crammed in there. I had to fight my way to the back counter.
“What is going on?” I asked my father.
“Today is flu shot day,” He replied. “Do you want one?”
“Uh, no thanks,” I said. “I would rather get the flu that to have to wait in that line.”
My father laughed.
I had never seen so many people inside his store before. You almost couldn’t move. It was going to be a long day for my father I am sure.
I finally got my injection and drove on down to the doctor’s office glad to escape that noisy crowd of people. As soon as I sat down, they called me back. Andrea, my nurse, greeted me at the door to the waiting rooms.
My regular nurse is such a beautiful specimen of a woman. I think I have a slight crush on her and she was especially flirtatious today. I reciprocated and she ate it up. We laughed and talked and then it came time to bare my posterior for posterity. It was an awkward moment with someone you fancy. I am so modest and hate having to expose my ass.
All’s well that ends well as they say and I made my way on home to start another day. A quiet day of reading as the wind gusts and the rain falls horizontally against my windows. Tammy, we greet thee. I don’t think I have ever been so glad to get a tropical storm. The weather has been so stagnant and uneventful lately and change of pace is welcomed.
This morning I had to get my injection of Risperdal. I crossed my fingers that what little gas I had left would get me down to the valley and back. My low fuel warning light is on and I think that means I have thirty miles of driving before it runs out.
As I arrived at my father’s pharmacy to pick up the shot, cars and trucks were everywhere and the store had only been open for a few minutes. “What in the Hell?” I muttered aloud as pulled in. There was no place to park and what seemed like hundreds of elderly people filled the drug store.
I finally found a parking space behind the hardware store next door and walked in the rain to the pharmacy. I almost couldn’t get in the door so many people where crammed in there. I had to fight my way to the back counter.
“What is going on?” I asked my father.
“Today is flu shot day,” He replied. “Do you want one?”
“Uh, no thanks,” I said. “I would rather get the flu that to have to wait in that line.”
My father laughed.
I had never seen so many people inside his store before. You almost couldn’t move. It was going to be a long day for my father I am sure.
I finally got my injection and drove on down to the doctor’s office glad to escape that noisy crowd of people. As soon as I sat down, they called me back. Andrea, my nurse, greeted me at the door to the waiting rooms.
My regular nurse is such a beautiful specimen of a woman. I think I have a slight crush on her and she was especially flirtatious today. I reciprocated and she ate it up. We laughed and talked and then it came time to bare my posterior for posterity. It was an awkward moment with someone you fancy. I am so modest and hate having to expose my ass.
All’s well that ends well as they say and I made my way on home to start another day. A quiet day of reading as the wind gusts and the rain falls horizontally against my windows. Tammy, we greet thee. I don’t think I have ever been so glad to get a tropical storm. The weather has been so stagnant and uneventful lately and change of pace is welcomed.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Ecstasy
Do you ever have those moments where all feels right in the world? I am having one of those right now despite a lean week that is ahead money-wise. I picture in my mind two dancers clasping their hands and twirling around in circles as the room around them blurs. They both grow light headed and giddy with glee. Good music, good smokes, tasty beer, thoughtful reading, and ample time to enjoy it. Those are the constructs of a day filled with ecstasy.
Bright Eyed and Bushy Tailed
I slept like a log last night. I lay down in the bed last night around 9 PM and didn’t wake up until 7 AM this morning. I didn’t even have my usual medication induced vibrant dreams last night. What a restful sleep!
Yesterday was a trying experience. My great aunt lives way out in the country so it is no simple task just to go pick her up and run errands. She is also a trying woman and I had to bite my tongue a few times during our conversations. She has a tendency to talk badly about everything and everybody; just one of those very negative type people. For years, my father tried various drugs under the guise that they were her blood pressure medications in the attempt to calm her down and give her a better outlook on life. It was akin to giving her sugar pills as none of them ever worked. She was always as negative as ever.
She also has a bad tendency to say so and so never worked a day in their life and that they are sorry. She rambled off various men who never farmed or worked during our drive yesterday. I wanted so badly to tell her that she never worked a day in her life as well. She always mooched off of various family members and lived with them. When one family member such as her siblings grew tired of her then another would take over the task of seeing about her. She once lived with my grandmother for two weeks. My grandmother couldn’t take it and had her moved to another sister’s house.
I drove us down to Auburn to eat lunch as she wanted a hamburger. I then drove up to the valley to buy her groceries and to get her prescriptions filled at my father’s pharmacy. Next on the agenda was the ophthalmologist appointment. That took another hour. Then I had to drive her back home and help unload all the groceries and get them put up. I was so glad when I pulled up in my driveway and could call it a day. My low fuel warning light came on the instant I pulled in.
Now, I have the dilemma of putting $10 more dollars worth of gas in or I will not drive until Monday. I spent $5 dollars yesterday getting me and my great aunt a hamburger at McDonalds for lunch. I think it is time to hit up the neighbors and see if any of them need their yards mowed or leaves gotten up. Got to get up some extra cash.
Oh, I got another one of those letters from the Diocese in Birmingham about my and my ex-wife’s annulment. I didn’t even open it. As I walked by the outside trash can coming from the mailbox yesterday, I just tossed it in. I am not fooling with that shit. This annulment garbage has been going on for years now. I could care less whether she gets it or not. I just wish they would quit sending me crap about it. Why can’t they just give her the damn thing and get it over with?
Yesterday was a trying experience. My great aunt lives way out in the country so it is no simple task just to go pick her up and run errands. She is also a trying woman and I had to bite my tongue a few times during our conversations. She has a tendency to talk badly about everything and everybody; just one of those very negative type people. For years, my father tried various drugs under the guise that they were her blood pressure medications in the attempt to calm her down and give her a better outlook on life. It was akin to giving her sugar pills as none of them ever worked. She was always as negative as ever.
She also has a bad tendency to say so and so never worked a day in their life and that they are sorry. She rambled off various men who never farmed or worked during our drive yesterday. I wanted so badly to tell her that she never worked a day in her life as well. She always mooched off of various family members and lived with them. When one family member such as her siblings grew tired of her then another would take over the task of seeing about her. She once lived with my grandmother for two weeks. My grandmother couldn’t take it and had her moved to another sister’s house.
I drove us down to Auburn to eat lunch as she wanted a hamburger. I then drove up to the valley to buy her groceries and to get her prescriptions filled at my father’s pharmacy. Next on the agenda was the ophthalmologist appointment. That took another hour. Then I had to drive her back home and help unload all the groceries and get them put up. I was so glad when I pulled up in my driveway and could call it a day. My low fuel warning light came on the instant I pulled in.
Now, I have the dilemma of putting $10 more dollars worth of gas in or I will not drive until Monday. I spent $5 dollars yesterday getting me and my great aunt a hamburger at McDonalds for lunch. I think it is time to hit up the neighbors and see if any of them need their yards mowed or leaves gotten up. Got to get up some extra cash.
Oh, I got another one of those letters from the Diocese in Birmingham about my and my ex-wife’s annulment. I didn’t even open it. As I walked by the outside trash can coming from the mailbox yesterday, I just tossed it in. I am not fooling with that shit. This annulment garbage has been going on for years now. I could care less whether she gets it or not. I just wish they would quit sending me crap about it. Why can’t they just give her the damn thing and get it over with?
Monday, October 03, 2005
Lean Times and Blog Tweaks
I did some tweaking of my blog templates. I can’t leave well enough alone it seems. I added a link above to my other blog. I also added a grey border around my content on this blog as well. I also added a nice new header image to Grumpy's Radio Station and tweaked some of the graphics and layout. I was especially proud of this new header for my music blog. The image that is prevalent on that blog was taken from a plane as it approached for landing in Paris, France. I found it on another blog and “acquired” it. :)
My very elderly great aunt called me today and said she needed a ride to her appointment with the ophthalmologist tomorrow. I couldn’t say no. I am not overflowing with cash at the moment and had to put in twenty dollars of gas and it only gave me 6 gallons. She lives in another town and her doctor is in another as well. It is a lengthy drive. I just hope 6 gallons will do it or we will be shit out of luck. Luckily, I don’t have to work this week, but that compounds the problem.
I only have an $85 dollar a week budget to work with after my mortgage, utilities, and other expenses are paid. So what did I do on top of spending $20 dollars on gas? I bought a $20 dollar carton of cheap cigarettes and a $10 dollar case of el cheapo beer. That leaves me with $34 dollars left in my wallet and that has to last me until next Monday. Lean times these next few days it shall be. Mayonnaise sandwiches and glasses of tea will be a frequent meal. Hey, at least I have plenty of smokes and enough beer to last me for a few days while I read.
My very elderly great aunt called me today and said she needed a ride to her appointment with the ophthalmologist tomorrow. I couldn’t say no. I am not overflowing with cash at the moment and had to put in twenty dollars of gas and it only gave me 6 gallons. She lives in another town and her doctor is in another as well. It is a lengthy drive. I just hope 6 gallons will do it or we will be shit out of luck. Luckily, I don’t have to work this week, but that compounds the problem.
I only have an $85 dollar a week budget to work with after my mortgage, utilities, and other expenses are paid. So what did I do on top of spending $20 dollars on gas? I bought a $20 dollar carton of cheap cigarettes and a $10 dollar case of el cheapo beer. That leaves me with $34 dollars left in my wallet and that has to last me until next Monday. Lean times these next few days it shall be. Mayonnaise sandwiches and glasses of tea will be a frequent meal. Hey, at least I have plenty of smokes and enough beer to last me for a few days while I read.
Sunday, October 02, 2005
Night Time Traffic
Last night, I couldn’t sleep. I lay in the bed for hours listening to AM talk radio softly playing from my bedside alarm clock. Oddly, most of the commercials didn’t bother me as they normally do. They were advertising products or money making schemes that didn’t apply to me; things such as herbal hair growth products and weird “get rich quick” money making schemes. They seemed to play the same commercials over and over and it was comforting in a certain sense.
One commercial was especially comforting. The voice was that of an older middle aged man. He would start every commercial by saying, “How in the world are you anyway?” He would then go into this spiel about how you could make $5000 dollars a month in your own home by following his “three step plan.” His voice was melodic and soothing. I looked forward to those frequent commercials by him even though I knew his message was full of shit. If you could make $5000 dollars a month from your own home in your pajamas then everybody would be doing it.
One show that caught my interest was called Point of View. It was a Christian call-in program that went on and on about how subversive and manipulating the same sex marriage movement has been and how wrong it is. It reminded me of same type of vitriol and hatred that was spouted in the south during the end of segregation. I genuinely felt sorry for those narrow minded people, but listened with a certain fascination that people could still think such a way in this day and age.
Finally, I got up out of the bed and walked outside to smoke. I sat upon a wrought iron chair sitting around a matching table in my backyard that Charlie had brought over a few weeks ago. I lit up a cigarette and listened to the night time sounds. I could hear the interstate many miles away on that cool night. The sound of the big rigs rolling down that highway was most prevalent. Even at four in the morning commerce must go on in today’s economy. It brought back flashbacks from my long haul truck driving days. I reminisced on how hard a job it was and how glad I was no longer amongst those drivers toiling the lonesome roads at this time of hour.
I finally finished my cigarette and climbed back into bed. Sleep overcame me.
One commercial was especially comforting. The voice was that of an older middle aged man. He would start every commercial by saying, “How in the world are you anyway?” He would then go into this spiel about how you could make $5000 dollars a month in your own home by following his “three step plan.” His voice was melodic and soothing. I looked forward to those frequent commercials by him even though I knew his message was full of shit. If you could make $5000 dollars a month from your own home in your pajamas then everybody would be doing it.
One show that caught my interest was called Point of View. It was a Christian call-in program that went on and on about how subversive and manipulating the same sex marriage movement has been and how wrong it is. It reminded me of same type of vitriol and hatred that was spouted in the south during the end of segregation. I genuinely felt sorry for those narrow minded people, but listened with a certain fascination that people could still think such a way in this day and age.
Finally, I got up out of the bed and walked outside to smoke. I sat upon a wrought iron chair sitting around a matching table in my backyard that Charlie had brought over a few weeks ago. I lit up a cigarette and listened to the night time sounds. I could hear the interstate many miles away on that cool night. The sound of the big rigs rolling down that highway was most prevalent. Even at four in the morning commerce must go on in today’s economy. It brought back flashbacks from my long haul truck driving days. I reminisced on how hard a job it was and how glad I was no longer amongst those drivers toiling the lonesome roads at this time of hour.
I finally finished my cigarette and climbed back into bed. Sleep overcame me.
Saturday, October 01, 2005
The Setting and the Signs
I am sitting at my computer writing. All my windows are open and a slight, comforting breeze is blowing in. The breeze is warm, but not hot.
The Alabama vs. Florida football game is on the radio. Alabama is off to a great start even though sensible Auburn fans such as I should be pulling for Florida.
A squirrel can be heard busily crunching and cracking the seeds from the dogwood tree outside my window. I looked over beyond my computer and the squirrel is hanging vicariously upon the end of those narrow and slender branches to enjoy what food this time of year offers.
The neighbor’s dog is paranoid and occasionally barks at unforeseen threats. I sometimes bark back to cajole him into a fit of distemper. It is a little game we play often. I think he enjoys it as do I. He rushes to the fence to see where this possible threat could be coming from.
Thus sets the setting for a southern Saturday at my home in the fall.
The days are certainly growing shorter and the long shadows that are cast by the afternoon sun depress me. I dread winter with a passion lately and do not look forward to that first “real” cold front that will bring cooler weather. Those subtle changes in light and shadow are very keenly felt by me in this time of the year.
This morning, as I smoked pipe outside, I heard the first crow calls of the season. As summer wanes, they fly into the city from the countryside seeking better opportunities. They are rapacious little birds and very opportunistic. I once saw a crow take a starling mid-flight and wrote about it on my previous blog. Their calls were another sure sign that cooler weather is on the way.
Winter; I do not welcome your coming, but you come none-the-less. I shall relish these last few days of green trees and warm air. That bland and brown winter landscape is soon to follow. A drop in my humor and mood is soon to follow as well.
The Alabama vs. Florida football game is on the radio. Alabama is off to a great start even though sensible Auburn fans such as I should be pulling for Florida.
A squirrel can be heard busily crunching and cracking the seeds from the dogwood tree outside my window. I looked over beyond my computer and the squirrel is hanging vicariously upon the end of those narrow and slender branches to enjoy what food this time of year offers.
The neighbor’s dog is paranoid and occasionally barks at unforeseen threats. I sometimes bark back to cajole him into a fit of distemper. It is a little game we play often. I think he enjoys it as do I. He rushes to the fence to see where this possible threat could be coming from.
Thus sets the setting for a southern Saturday at my home in the fall.
The days are certainly growing shorter and the long shadows that are cast by the afternoon sun depress me. I dread winter with a passion lately and do not look forward to that first “real” cold front that will bring cooler weather. Those subtle changes in light and shadow are very keenly felt by me in this time of the year.
This morning, as I smoked pipe outside, I heard the first crow calls of the season. As summer wanes, they fly into the city from the countryside seeking better opportunities. They are rapacious little birds and very opportunistic. I once saw a crow take a starling mid-flight and wrote about it on my previous blog. Their calls were another sure sign that cooler weather is on the way.
Winter; I do not welcome your coming, but you come none-the-less. I shall relish these last few days of green trees and warm air. That bland and brown winter landscape is soon to follow. A drop in my humor and mood is soon to follow as well.
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